


Heirs to the House of El

by kalalanekent



Category: Superman (Reeveverse), Superman Returns (2006)
Genre: Heirs, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalalanekent/pseuds/kalalanekent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to 'Little Secrets'. Ten years ago, a devil's bargain and one little secret won them ten years of freedom. Now that same secret may come back to destroy all they've built.</p><p>[Posting this between work on other RV projects; expect a chapter or two every few days until it's entirely uploaded]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kala Josephine Lane-Kent :: Welcome to the Black Parade

_When I was a young boy,  
My father took me into the city  
To see a marching band.  
He said,  
"Son, when you grow up,  
Would you be the saviour of the broken,  
The beaten and the damned?"_

~ My Chemical Romance, _Welcome to the Black Parade_

 

_Cold, so cold, icy water soaking through clothes to skin, salt stinging eyes, **panic** : no air. Just water, cold seawater, holding breath and kicking hard, hands bound, shoes heavy. Trapped, doomed, freezing – dying. Dying, lungs burning, darkness descending, and the water conducting one sound hellishly clear: **Luthor's laughter** …_

I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air, my skin clammy with sweat, and I panted in terror until reality asserted itself: I was almost sixteen, not six and helpless; this was my familiar bedroom, not the cold Atlantic Ocean; and I had been dreaming, not drowning. For the millionth time, I cursed Luthor; even ten years later, the nightmares were still just as intense. Some part of me would always be that little girl, heroic enough to attack a madman to protect her father, but too weak to stop herself from being flung off a kryptonite island and into the merciless ocean.

It took a moment to regain my breath and my composure, but once I did, I got up and pulled a bathrobe over my nightgown. It was automatic after all this time, just one of those weird twin things. If I had a nightmare, Jason did too. So I was already heading for his room when I first heard his voice.

He wasn't quite awake yet, still murmuring in his sleep, but his breath was fast and shallow and his heart was racing. Still stuck in his version of our endless nightmare, my twin would eventually thrash himself awake, probably wrecking his bed and his room in the process. Super-strength can be a bitch sometimes.

Before he got to that point, I was in his room, sitting on the side of his bed and rubbing his back. "It's a nightmare, Jase," I whispered, using the nickname I'd given him. Only I called him Jase, and only he called me Kal. "The same old dream. Daddy's okay, Mom's safe, Luthor's long gone, we're grown up, and it's just a stupid nightmare."

Gradually he stopped tossing and turning, curling up on his side. I glanced at his clock; it was almost four in the morning. Not much point now in dragging myself back across the hall to my room for another hour's sleep. The nightmare had been known to strike twice in the same night, so we were better off together. Sighing, I lay down next to my brother and cuddled up to his back, listening to his breathing deepen and slow as I tried to get back to sleep.

Jason's room was a reflection of his personality. The walls were painted a handsome forest green (I'd teased him unmercifully about painting his room to match his iguana) and bookshelves dominated the walls. Half of them were science fiction, the other half dry science texts, with a couple of books about chess and some very literary fiction sprinkled in for variety. Gazeera's cage took up part of one wall, the red heat lamp casting an eerie glow over the whole room. Fortunately, this nightmare hadn't gotten to the point where the noise woke Gazeera, and the lizard was still draped over his sleeping branch, semi-comatose.

This was nothing like my room – a riot of black and red and violet, with horror movie posters on the walls and sculptures and photos mingling with books on the shelves – but I still felt comfortable here. Jason and I had shared a room for most of our lives, only separating when Mom offered to let us decorate our own rooms. Even when we moved in here and were first given separate rooms, we both slept in the same one for a year. That was right after the Luthor debacle, though, and not even the shrink Mom took us to would deny us the right to stay together.

I burrowed under the thick sand-and-sage colored comforter and curled up on my side, my back against Jason's. We looked like mirror images, almost, his hair finally as dark as mine. Always together, me and Jason; we kept no secrets from each other, and in spite of all our quarreling we never even tried to pretend we didn't love each other. And we protected each other, no question about it. He'd killed a man to save me once (not that we knew that Brutus was dead at first), and I'd gotten into more than a few fights at school over the years protecting him. Jason wouldn't fight if he could help it; what was fair, he'd say, about a kid who could throw a grand piano taking on an ordinary first-grader? As his strength grew, so did his reluctance to defend himself when the school bullies taunted him. He'd leap to my defense, but wouldn't raise a hand to protect himself. I didn't have the strength, so I was his champion. It was much less likely that I'd really hurt someone, but everyone quickly learned not to mess with Jason Kent, or his sister would beat them up.

Still don't have the super-strength, not really. Oh, I'm stronger than an ordinary teenage girl, but not strong enough to juggle cars. I've got other advantages: super-speed and hearing almost at Dad's level, a little of the x-ray vision, some invulnerability, and heat vision. I can't weld steel with my eyeballs like Dad and Jason, but I can burn through most things. And I don't have to look for a lighter when I steal one of Mom's cigarettes – a nice perk. She rarely smokes anymore, so she doesn't count the ones in the pack, but if the lighter went missing she'd know.

Not that I smoke all that much. I know it's bad for you, but it goes with my Goth image and besides, I like the taste of Mom's cloves. The menthol ones are positively yummy. And it's not like having a couple cigarettes a month is gonna hurt a half-Kryptonian. The older Jason and I get, the more sunbaths Dad lets us have up above the clouds, the more our off-world legacy protects us. That's the number-one benefit of Superman being my dad – I'm immune to a lot of things.

If only we could share that invulnerability…

I caught myself blinking back tears again, and rolled over to nuzzle against Jason's shoulder. In his sleep, he turned onto his back and hugged me, and the closeness was comforting. There's still an empty ache somewhere deep inside, and I still have days when I pick up the phone to call her, only to remember she's gone.

I remember it too perfectly, lounging in the bedroom with the window open, letting the cool Milanese evening breeze in, and lazily contemplating which of the cute Italian boys I wanted to talk to. Summer break in Italy with Richard and Lana, a wonderful vacation, and it had seemed like nothing could possibly go wrong. Then I heard Dad's voice, just outside, and it was _that_ tone. It had to be something very serious for him to arrive in uniform, and Jason and I both scrambled to meet him. I couldn't hear exactly what he told Lana, but I heard "hospital" and "hurry" and after that my heart was pounding so hard its beat blanked out the rest of it. I saw fear and grief on my father's face, and heartbreak on Lana's, and the next thing I knew Dad was wrapping his cape around me and Jason and flying us back to Metropolis.

That trip was _fast_ , way faster than we'd ever flown before, mere minutes to cross an ocean. Then we were in the hospital, and I saw Nana lying there. My brave, wise Nana, always so strong, always so certain, hooked up to a dozen machines. I saw her with a pitiless new clarity: the wrinkles around her eyes, the sparseness of her white hair, the tension in her mouth where she'd been holding the pain between clenched teeth. And she was so _thin_ , something I hadn't noticed before I left for vacation. Even her eyes, that strange hazel that Mom and I both inherited, were glassy with drugs and pain instead of the usual Lane keenness.

Worse than that was Mom. She was sitting beside the bed, holding Nana's hand, rocking slightly in her chair. She didn't make a sound – Lois Lane, who could bellow across the city room like the best of the guys, was utterly silent. Only I could hear her tears falling, splashing across the back of Nana's hand.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Nana whispered, and her voice was so thready it made my heart skip a beat. Jason and I came toward her slowly, almost afraid to intrude. Truth be told, we weren't all that eager to get better acquainted with death, either. And that's what was in the room with us – death.

Nana held out her other hand. "Jason, Kala – my little darlings. Come here, it's okay. It's all going to be all right."

Jason went down on one knee beside her hospital bed, and she put her arm around his shoulders. I was right beside him, her hand on my cheek, feeling the papery thinness of her skin and hating it. Hating death and life and anyone and everything around me for taking her away. Not my Nana, she didn't deserve this…

Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ron were there, and Nora and Joanna and Michelle. Sam was off in college – he made it there the next morning, and it was only after the funeral that we found out Lana had paid for his plane ticket, finding a seat for him on the very next flight he could catch. Lana and Richard and Kristin made it there, too, chartering a plane that night, but Kristin didn't stay. She and Lucy's two youngest girls wound up going home with Ron that night – it was after midnight when they left, and they had to get some sleep.

Nana told us all that she'd known about the cancer for a year. It was already too far advanced to treat with surgery when it was discovered, so she'd kept it a secret. She hadn't wanted all of us weeping and brooding and panicking every time she coughed. It was too late for radiation or chemo, so she chose to go gracefully. She'd thought she had a few months left, and had intended to make the announcement when Jason and I came home from our big trip to Italy.

The cancer surprised her, though. She woke up one morning feeling very run-down, and went to see her doctor. While she was there, Nana just kept feeling sicker and sicker, and the doctor wound up transferring her to the hospital. Blood tests revealed that her organs were shutting down – she had a few days. Maybe.

Our entire family silently listened to her whispery voice. We were all in shock. I knew that Dad and Jason and I were thinking the same thing: with all these powers, there was nothing we could do to save her. Nothing.

Then I understood how Dad had felt when his father died right in front of him, and how frightened he'd been when Grandma broke her hip two years ago. And the pain I was already feeling doubled; I was losing Nana, and at that moment I had to acknowledge that someday I'd lose Mom. I looked across the bed at her, and saw her face ravaged by grief. Fearless Reporter Lois Lane looked every one of her years, then, and I felt a shudder pass through me. No one knew how long Dad would live, but Mom … oh, Mom was all too mortal…

If I could've somehow made everything right between us at that instant, I would've. It would be a great story: "And then, by my grandmother's deathbed, my Mom and I swore to love each other like we used to, and stop fighting all the time. And they all lived happily ever after." But life isn't like a fairytale. Mom and I had been feuding for years, and not even _Superman_ had been able to bridge the widening gap between us. I'm not even sure when it started, only that as I progressed from cute kid to (admittedly) snarky teenager, Mom started to be a little sharper with me. I got sarcastic, she started riding my case all the time, and then I got defiant. Would it have _killed_ her to get off my back once in a while? She didn't understand the first thing about me, and she was always suspicious, always _expecting_ me to get in trouble. I figured, why disappoint her? Anyway, now, at fifteen, I couldn't get through a week without at least one voices-raised argument with her.

Nana did manage this much, however: there was peace between us in that hospital room. All that night, and the following day, we stayed. Lucy's girls came back the next morning in time to see Sam, and Dad had to step out a few times, but he was there as much as he could be. He coaxed Mom to eat a little bit, but for the most part she stayed glued to Nana's side. One of the nurses tried to tell us to go home around lunchtime, but the flat, threatening Lane glare from multiple sets of eyes silenced her.

The afternoon of that terrible Thursday, Uncle Perry came in. He must've heard from Dad or Ron, I guess; someone had to explain why his International and City Editors weren't at work. Aunt Loueen drove him, but she waited in the hall.

Perry looked his age at that moment, and I remember feeling an icy shiver run down my back. Was _everyone_ getting older, growing closer to their date with the reaper? Even the indestructible Perry White, in his late sixties and still Editor-in-Chief of the largest newspaper in town? He stood in the doorway for a long moment, just looking at Nana, and the rest of us quietly found reasons to step out. All except Mom; she stayed. She hadn't left the room since she arrived.

Jason and I hung around in the hall while Ron spoke to Loueen. Just because we were out of the room didn't mean we weren't keeping watch over Nana, though. I had this insane thought that the minute I stopped watching, she'd be gone, as if it was my will alone that kept her alive from one moment to the next. I dreaded turning my back even for the few seconds it took to walk outside.

Dad came and put an arm around each of our shoulders, Jason and I standing just outside the door. I'm pretty sure all three of us were watching through the wall as well as listening when Perry went to the bedside and put his hand on Mom's shoulder, squeezing gently. But he looked at Nana, not at Mom. "Elinore," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Peregrine," she replied, trying valiantly to sound stronger than she was. "A delight as always." She held out her trembling hand and he took it, and for a long moment they simply stared at each other.

"You had to be an Army wife to the end," Uncle Perry finally said. "Stubborn and secretive. No pity for General Lane's widow, is that it?"

"No pity," Nana replied. "Not for Sam's widow, and not for Ella Tremaine, either. I've had a long life, I've raised a wonderful family, and I've had good friends along the way. Now I'm going to a better place than this, Peregrine. I've got family and friends waiting there, too."

Another silence descended on them, and Mom finally seemed to notice who was there. She got up, slowly, and hugged Perry, who never let go of Nana's hand. Then Mom came outside, moving like a sleepwalker. Dad had both of us, so Richard caught her elbow and pulled her into a hug. I'd never seen her look so utterly beaten, so weary and defeated.

I looked back into the hospital room just in time to see Uncle Perry lean down and kiss Nana. I knew – the whole family knew – that they had always been fond of each other, but _that_ was a surprise. He drew back from her, tears shining in his eyes, and whispered huskily, "I've always loved you."

"And I've always loved you," she whispered back, her hand tightening on his. "For being a good friend to me and my family, and for being a father to Lois when Sam couldn't. Thank you for that, Peregrine. I wouldn't have asked it of you."

"She's a good kid," he replied. "I'm proud of her."

"So am I," Nana said, and her voice was getting fainter. She rallied with visible effort, and told him, "Take care of her for me, Peregrine. And take care of that lovely girl you married, and the son she gave you. Be happy with the life you have. Don't dwell on what might've been; don't miss me too much."

"I'll try." He squeezed her hand, bending to kiss her knuckles. "But you're too grand a lady not to be missed. The world won't be the same without you."

"Flatterer," Nana chuckled.

"Only truth," he said, very quietly.

He didn't stay long; Nana was putting on a show of strength for her old admirer, and it exhausted her. Uncle Perry took Mom aside for a few moments, talking to her gently, and he hugged her and held her until she got some of her composure back. The nurses came by then and insisted that we remain outside for a few minutes while they "took care of things". All of us headed down to the cafeteria for a joyless meal. Even Lana was silent, and she had always been the one we could count on to be optimistic, the one who took responsibility for the whole family's emotional well-being. Then again, Lana had grown quite close to Nana, who considered her an adopted daughter.

When we trudged back upstairs, Nana looked a little better, but that was only because she'd had another dose of medication. She asked to speak with all of us one-on-one, and we obliged her. Mom went first, and a stern glance from Dad told me that I'd better keep my super-hearing to myself.

It seemed like forever while each of the adults solemnly went in to talk to Nana, most of them leaving the room unashamedly daubing tears from their eyes. At least Mom seemed to have some of her old Mad Dog Lane spine back; she wasn't on the verge of collapse any longer. Aunt Lucy had some of her composure back after her visit, too, and instead of huddling in Uncle Ron's embrace she went to her three daughters and hugged them. Lana was more of her old self after talking to Nana, too, and she paused to kiss my cheek and hug me on her way out of the room.

My turn finally came, and I went in to sit at Nana's bedside. I had no idea what to say to her, or what she meant to say to me. But at least I wasn't afraid to come close to her anymore. She was still my Nana, even with so many machines crowding around her. The glassy look was gone; her hazel eyes were perceptive as ever, and they searched my face for a long moment before either of us said a word.

Nana's hand came up to stroke my cheek, and she smiled. "You have the Tremaine eyes," she told me, and it startled me to realize that the strange hazel was _her_ family's legacy, not General Lane's. I didn't have a chance to feel stupid for missing something so obvious, though, because she continued speaking. "The Tremaine spine, too. I see a lot of myself in you, Kala Josephine. And I'll deny it if you ever breathe a word to anyone else, but you were always my favorite."

I preened under the praise, actually. I wanted to be like Nana – I love all my family, but Nana was my favorite after Dad, and I felt like we were especially close. She was always the one who could jolly me out of a cranky mood, always glad to spend time with me, and after I'd turned fourteen and couldn't seem to get along with any other female in the Lane family, my relationship with Nana never suffered in the slightest. She never seemed shocked by my choice of clothing or my taste in music, and she actually talked to me like a grownup.

Best of all, though, she was the _only_ person in the whole family who didn't tell me all the time about how I was the spitting image of Mom, or how I was so my mother's daughter – those constant comparisons drive me _nuts._ I mean, seriously. I'm not a Lois Lane clone, and I got sick of that particular little supposed 'compliment' by the time I was thirteen.

Nana caught my chin and my attention, bringing my wandering mind back to the present moment. "Kala, my dear, you also have the Lane neck and the Lane skull – the one's stiff and the other's thick. If you let them, those can become your greatest weaknesses. You are a brilliant young lady, Kala, but no one on the face of this earth knows _everything_. Not even your grandfather on your father's side knows it all. Try to keep an open mind and an open heart. And try to learn to forgive, to give way a little here and there."

She paused to cough, and I watched her with open-mouthed shock. Nana, one of the strongest, most determined, most absolutely indomitable women I knew, telling me to give in? What the hell? Nana got her breath back and squeezed my hand. "I used to be a proud young woman, you know. Vain as a peacock, too. And when I wanted something, I was so stubborn! My aunt Marion told me once that I was like an oak tree, strong and straight, resisting everything. That was the strength it took to marry my Sam; my family never liked him, and I had to push past all of their opposition to get my way. But my aunt, she was the only one who thought if I loved the boy I should marry him, and no matter if he was just an Army captain from a family no one had ever heard of. She was glad I managed to out-stubborn the rest of the family, but she warned me about myself. She said that oak trees get blown over by hurricanes. They lose branches, and if the winds are strong enough, the trees get ripped out by the roots."

I nodded, not understanding, but knowing she was telling me the story for a reason. "Now, willow trees almost never get blown over," Nana continued. "They're flexible; they bend before the storm. Bend, but never break. And if you cut down willow saplings, they grow back twice as strong. I listened to my aunt and I nodded like you're nodding now, and I thought to myself that my way was best. I didn't learn the value of yielding to the storm and springing back again until your mother was born. And Lord, we had storms aplenty then…"

Her eyes slid closed, and she breathed shallowly, her fingers slack in my hand. I thought she might've fallen asleep, just dozed off mid-story, but then Nana took a deep breath and looked at me again. "You're a good girl, Kala Josephine Lane-Kent," she told me, then smiled. It was the same brilliant smile I'd known since childhood, when I'd brought her a painting or a test I'd made an A+ on. Tears started to spill down my cheeks at the thought that this might be the last time I saw that wonderful smile. "You'll turn out just fine," Nana said. "You're going to grow up into a beautiful young lady – you're already more than halfway there. And you're going to accomplish everything you want in life. You will be someone people are glad to have in their lives, darling, someone others look up to. And I will always love you. A little thing like dying doesn't change that."

I broke down and wept then, bent over and rested my head against her frail shoulder as the sobs shook me. She put one arm around me and shushed me, crooning that oldest lullaby. Who would've thought a Moody Blues song could be such a comfort? When I got myself halfway under control again, Nana handed me the box of tissues they'd left by her bedside. "Kala, sweetheart, you look like a raccoon," she told me with a chuckle, and I laughed.

"Should've worn the waterproof mascara," I joked back weakly. "I'm gonna miss you so much, Nana."

"You shouldn't," she said, almost stern. "I won't be gone. If you start to miss me, my little girl, just look into a mirror. Or into your mother's eyes. Or go to your aunt's house and have her make you up a batch of my lasagna. I'll always be near you, dear. I'll always watch over you."

I started crying again then, but it didn't last as long. When I was done, I kissed Nana and told her I loved her, then went out and sent Jason in. Everything Nana had said was still sloshing around inside my head, so I sat down by myself to think about it.

It had taken two more days, during which most of the family stayed at the hospital the entire time. The staff was understanding, and since we were quiet and didn't harass the nurses, they let us stay overnight. Nana's heart was starting to fail her. The doctors had been surprised she lasted so long; they never said so to us, but we saw the expressions on their faces when they looked at her vital signs and test results. She was running on determination alone at the end – pure Lane stubbornness, Mom whispered.

Everyone had been in and out of the room that day. The place was crowded with flowers and cards and photographs. Tobie and Maggie had come by with a bottle of Nana's favorite bourbon when they got the news, mostly to comfort Mom – and anyone who thinks Mom and Tobie hate each other would be very surprised by the way they hugged for such a long time. Professional rivalry aside, they're always there for each other. Of course, the nurses threw a fit when they saw the bourbon, but Nana dryly informed them that it wasn't going to have time to do too much harm, and they shut up.

Uncle Jimmy had been in yesterday, shyly bearing an enlarged copy of Nana's wedding photograph. She and General Sam looked so young and so very much in love that even Mom sniffled a bit. Lucy's girls had brought some things from home – a softer pillow, Nana's hairbrush, little things that meant so much. Tangible reminders of how much we all loved her surrounded Nana, and she smiled every time her glance took in the room.

It happened early in the evening. Nana had been dozing in the bed, and most of the family was out at dinner. Mom stayed in the room, asleep in the chair by Nana's bed, finally letting exhaustion claim her. She was still holding Nana's hand, though. Dad was in the reclining chair on the opposite side, trying to stay awake. He'd been up for over fifty hours with only thin snatches of rest, trying to manage the newspaper, the world, and the family heartbreak.

Jason and I were sitting on the heating register, me leaning on his shoulder. We were pretty worn down too, but I didn't need to see his face to know he was as awake as I was. We were watching Nana, watching her chest rise and fall, listening to her heartbeat. It was slow and irregular now, not the steady rhythm it had always been. Sometimes there would be a pause between beats, and then it would suddenly speed up like a lagging jogger sprinting to catch up. My nerves were frayed by every one of those little hesitations, until I was almost numb with dread. So when it finally happened, we all almost missed it.

Nana woke up, her hazel eyes sweeping the room with a loving gaze. She smiled at me, and I smiled back, thinking from her peaceful expression that she was about to doze off again. But instead, she squeezed Mom's hand slightly. Her strength was so far gone that none of us saw the faint movement. Mom woke up, though, and looked at her mother. "Love you, baby girl," Nana whispered, so softly.

"Love you too, Momma," Mom replied. At that, Nana smiled and closed her eyes with a sigh.

For a moment, none of us realized what had just happened. That soft, contented sigh was Nana's last, however. When she didn't breathe in, machines started to beep, and Mom started calling for Nana in tones of rising distress.

The next few minutes were a whirl of panic, grief, and confusion. Doctors and nurses crowded into the room, but there was nothing they could do except confirm the obvious. Mom wailed, keening so hard that she frightened the doctors. Dad held her, rocking her gently while she sobbed, and I remember thinking it was only his strength that kept her from falling to pieces from the force of sorrow within her.

Jason and I had never seen Mom come unglued like that, plus we'd both just seen our Nana die. I turned and buried my head in his shoulder, and he put his arms around me, both of us holding on to the one thing we knew we'd never lose…

In the present, Jason's arm around my shoulders tightened again, and I hugged him back, leaving painful memories behind for the moment. My brother – nerd that he is, hopelessly old-fashioned, absolutely content to bend his head beneath the yoke of Jor-El's plans for him – in spite of all those things, I love him. With that more comforting thought in mind, I snuggled close and drifted back to sleep.


	2. Jason Lane Kent :: The Luckiest Loser

_Things are better if I stay  
So long and goodnight  
So long, not goodnight._

_Can you hear me?  
Are you near me?  
Can we pretend to leave and then  
We'll meet again  
When both our cars collide?_

~ My Chemical Romance, _Helena_

 

I woke up huddled on the very edge of my bed, in imminent danger of falling off. Normally I don't get up until the alarm's been going off for several minutes, but the feeling of gravity tugging at me where I leaned off the edge had managed to do what my alarm clock couldn't. Yawning, I rolled over to look at the reason I'd very nearly been shoved out of my own bed.

Kala sprawled there, sound asleep, her robe spread around her like a cape and her long black hair flung across both pillows. She'd always been like that; my sister might fall asleep curled into a little ball, but while unconscious she stretched out like one of those 'grow your own dinosaur' toys that expand to six hundred percent of their original size when you put them in water. In the process, I had politely shuffled aside in my sleep to make room for her, giving up most of my bed. I didn't mind her hogging the bed and the covers, and not just because I was used to it after almost sixteen years. I could vaguely remember her voice in the dark last night, soothing me out of one of those terrible nightmares.

Those dreams… We never talked about them to Mom and Dad, not even to each other. But I knew we were both reliving the same awful moment. For Kala, she was probably dreaming about Luthor tossing her off the side of that island. She'd had a fear of drowning that took years to overcome, and even now she was cautious. I remember her grim expression the first time she waded into the pool over at Richard and Lana's apartment, how she'd had to force herself to let go of the railing. No one pushed her to do it, either, not even our therapist. My sister wouldn't let anything control her, not even crippling fear, so she made herself get over it with sheer stubbornness. I've never told her how much I admire her for that. She probably knows.

I'm not afraid of drowning or falling or anything like that. No, I dream about Dad flying me down to rescue her. And in my nightmares, her hand slips through mine. I try to hold on as hard as I can, letting go of Dad's neck to grab with my other hand, but she still slides away. I can't hold her, and I have to watch her fall, have to see the look of shock and betrayal in her eyes. I try to scream for her, but no sound comes out of my mouth, and Dad flies upward, dazed by the kryptonite, not even knowing that Kala has slipped from our grasp.

Her worst nightmare is dying. Mine is seeing her die, being helpless to save her. Analyze _that_ , Dr. Marrin.

I propped myself up on one elbow and watched her sleep. I'm not blind or stupid; I know my sister's pretty, even beautiful. She got Mom's striking coloration with this classic look from one of our grandmothers, Ella or Lara, and she turns heads everywhere we go. She knows it, too, the vain little brat. Kala can bat her eyelashes at most guys and they'll do whatever she asks, but it doesn't work on me. Thing is, I'm her brother. Pretty doesn't count with me. I know her way better than that.

After all, I remember when we were little, and she used to wrap a red towel around her shoulders and jump on the furniture, pretending to be Dad. I remember opening her bedroom closet one time and finding her with a scarf wrapped around her head, singing an old Madonna song into her hairbrush. I also remember the mercifully brief period around eleven years old when she got her growth spurt and everything else, including acne. It seemed like she was growing up overnight and leaving me behind, and I was pretty anxious for a year or so until I started getting taller, too. She teased me when my voice broke just as much as I'd teased her when she got all spotty.

We've been through a lot, Kala and me. Bickering and harassing each other most of the time, yet always sticking together against outsiders. We might be yelling insults at the tops of our lungs, but let one poor fool try to agree with one of us, and we'll both turn on him. We protect each other, too. She's taken on boys twice her size and whipped them for saying stuff about me, and though I try not to get into fights – I'm way too strong to even roughhouse with anyone but Dad or Kala – I won't let anyone hurt her. She's my sister, my twin.

You know, Dad used to have this whole 'last survivor of a dying race' complex – thanks, Jor-El – where he always felt so alone. He and I have talked about it some, and I understand how much the family means to him because he was so lonely for so long. But I'm not a last son – I was never alone. Not even in the womb. From the moment of our conception (in the Fortress, while some jerks from Krypton were trying to take over, and this was _not_ information I absolutely needed, thanks Mom and Dad), neither Kala nor I have ever really been alone. I can't remember ever feeling lonely, not even once.

Even when we were separated – in different classes or whatever – we still weren't quite alone. It's hard to explain without sounding corny, but I always know Kala's there. She might not be in the same room, but she's in my heart. That's totally cheese toast, but it's as close as I can get to what I mean. Sometimes I know when she's mad or upset even though she's clear across the school, and sometimes she picks up the same kinds of feelings from me. Psychic mumbo-jumbo, Uncle Perry would call it, but not even he could explain why Kala started crying the time I tripped coming out of the elevator and skinned both knees on the sill – three floors below where Kala was sitting in Perry's office. Dad's a little weirded out by stuff like that, but Mom just brushes it off as being the normal way of things. Both dads find it freaky, actually, but Richard's better at hiding it. I guess once he wrapped his mind around the fact that the kids he'd raised were super-powered, everything else was easier to take. And as for Lana, she tends to shrug off weird stuff pretty easily. As the only sane member of this family, I guess she's had to take a lot of things in stride.

Other kids get jealous of our family, you know. Nobody else we know has two mothers and two fathers, all of whom get along with each other and all of whom love us. Not to mention all of our aunts and uncles, relatives by blood or newsprint, and our horde of cousins. Poor Dad, going from a life of just himself and Grandma, to having the Lanes, Troupes, and Whites all welcoming him as one of the family. Then there's Uncle Perry and Aunt Loueen, Uncle Jimmy, and the Unrelated Aunts, Cat, Tobie, and Maggie. They're all family even though none of them are blood relatives, and our holiday get-togethers are huge events. Must've been some serious culture shock for Dad, but he's adapted well. Everyone adores him, even those who don't know the secret.

The secret – oh yeah, that's the other thing. There's a family within the family, a very small and select group of people who know that Dad is Superman. Me and Kala, Mom and Dad, Richard and Lana, Grandma, and Nana…

I caught myself sniffling a little, and brushed the tears aside. I still miss her, but I never let myself really break down and cry. That night in the hospital, Mom was hysterical, and Dad had to go to her. He had to be strong for her, comfort her, while she wept like I'd never heard before. Kala was just as heartbroken, so I was strong for her. I held her and let her cry for both of us. But it still gets to me sometimes.

I hated to lose Nana. It felt so personal, like there was something I could've done to save her. I know there really wasn't anything I could do; Dad's talked to me enough about how we're not miracle workers. Some things just can't be helped. Still, it's not fair. And Nana dying opened my eyes to the fact that other people I know and love are going to die, too. Someday Grandma and Grandpa Ben will leave us – she just broke her hip last year, and Dad went nuts worrying over her. What really scares me is the thought of _Mom_ dying. I know the grief would drive Dad crazy if she died before him. They love each other so much it's like staring into the sun – blindingly obvious.

When I went into Nana's room alone that last time, she just looked at me for a long moment. It felt so strange being there, with all those machines humming and beeping in the background like something out of a bad science fiction novel. And in the middle of it all Nana, with that cancer gnawing away at her the whole time, taking another bite of her life with every breath, every heartbeat, every word.

Once she spoke, though, I forgot all of that. "Jason, love," she whispered, and I knelt down to rest my head on her shoulder. She kissed my forehead, and the hand she raised to pat my arm was cool. After a moment, she murmured, "No one pays attention to the good boy, do they? You do well in school, you're brilliant at math and science, you play a difficult instrument well, and no one ever has to remind you to practice or to do your homework. You listen to your parents, and you don't cause a lot of trouble – oh, I know about your pranks, Jason Lane Kent, even if your father is convinced by that innocent smile."

I blushed then, feeling foolish. It was true that I'd often gotten away with misbehaving when we were little. Dad would take one look at my big, pleading eyes and decide that Bagel knocked over the vase, or that Mom must've eaten the last cookie in the jar. Whenever Kala did something naughty, she pranced around with this triumphant look on her face until our parents _knew_ she'd been up to something. But I'd always kept quiet, and I thought only Mom realized I wasn't quite the perfect little angel everyone thought I was. Apparently Mom got her observational skills directly from Nana.

"Silly boy," she chuckled dryly. "I know you better than you think, and I love you. You aren't some cardboard cutout of a perfect child. Stop trying so hard to be what you think your father is, and just be yourself."

"What do you mean, Nana?" I asked softly.

"Clark is far from perfect himself," Nana informed me. "Remember, he stole your mother's memories when he thought their relationship was a mistake. He turned his back on his mission and fled back to Krypton because he couldn't face her anymore, leaving her here alone and pregnant with you and Kala. He's made other mistakes in his life, mostly small ones, and never anything on that scale again, but he _has_ made mistakes." Lowering her voice to a whisper only I could hear, she added, "He may be Superman, but he's not a god. He's just a man – a good man, gifted with amazing powers, but still a man, and flawed as all men are. That's all anyone should ask of you, Jason. That you grow up to be a good man. And you're already most of the way there, sweetheart. Stop worrying so much, stop pushing yourself, and grow at your own pace. You will be everything you need to be, everything you want to be, when you need to."

Those were her last words to me. She was getting tired again, and from then on everything was very quiet in the room, Nana saving her strength for breath. I went out of the room and wandered the hospital halls until I found a door leading to a patio outside. The sun was shining down on me, and I could feel its golden light filling me up. Nana's voice echoed in my head … but I couldn't quite take her advice. I _am_ Superman's son. I _am_ the Heir to the House of El, and the heir to its legacy, to my father's mission. I can't afford to relax, to just be a good guy. I've got to be a hero, and I've got to be as close to perfect as I can be.

After all, if I screw up, the consequences could be a lot more severe than any other teenager. I have super-strength, heat-vision, and x-ray vision, all nearly as strong as Dad's powers. I've also got some super-speed, though Dad and Kala can outrace me, and my hearing's not as good as theirs either. Still, the powers I have are more than enough to cause serious damage to people and property if I'm not super-careful.

I shrugged myself out of that line of thought with the reminder that Kala's the freaky morbid twin, not me. And since she was still snoozing sprawled across eighty percent of my bed, that gave me a chance to get up before her and have the bathroom all to myself. A rare treat, considering that she's disgustingly perky most mornings. I eased out of bed and padded barefoot down the hall.

Sharing a bathroom with my sister isn't as much of a hardship as it could be. I mean, my cousin Sam has _three_ younger sisters, and when the family goes out to dinner they _all_ want to primp in front of the mirror. He's stuck brushing his hair in the reflection from his ROTC plaque. On the other hand, Kala's Goth, which as far as I can tell means she owns twice as much makeup as a normal girl, most of it either really dark or some kind of iridescent. I've watched her do her makeup, and applying lipstick alone is a four-step process. I'm so glad to be a guy – all I have to do is wash my face, brush my teeth, comb my hair back with a little water to tame that crazy curl in the front, and splash on some cologne. I don't even have to shave yet, and I'm not eager to start sprouting facial hair like some guys I know. Most girls I know prefer to kiss a clean-shaven guy. Elise did, anyway…

Thinking of her brought me to a halt, and my reflection stared back at me sadly. "Pathetic," I muttered to myself, shrugging off the thought. I'd really believed Elise was The One, but I guess I was trying too hard to have what Mom and Dad have. Kala told me I was too committed, but I was so crazy over Elise that I didn't listen to anyone. I wanted to marry her, live my life with her – when I pictured my future, family photos on the mantle, the only woman I could see beside me was Elise.

Well, _that_ went down in flames. I made the mistake of _telling_ Elise about the whole future-family-photos thing, and she got kind of flaky on me. Canceled a couple dates, then said we should break up for the summer since we weren't going to see each other. She went on vacation to New Zealand with her family over the summer and started seeing some guy. That ticked me off. She didn't even _tell_ me, I had to find out by talking to mutual friends. Even though she's back in town for school and not seeing the New Zealander guy anymore, we aren't speaking. And I'm seeing someone new, too.

Giselle's not The One. She's not the answer to my dreams; she's not Mrs. Right. If I'm totally honest with myself, she started out as revenge on Elise, a way to prove that Elise really _didn't_ rip my heart out and stomp on it. But now that we've been dating, I really like her. She's gorgeous, and all the guys are jealous of me when she's holding my hand while we walk down the hall. Better yet, she's affectionate and cuddly and always saying nice stuff about me. Giselle's also got a wicked sense of humor, and she's a lot smarter than Kala gives her credit for, too.

Kala, of course, hates her. The way she acts, you'd think Kala had planned and paid for my wedding to Elise, and I backed out of it to run off with the local streetwalker. Elise was the only one of my girlfriends that Kala ever got along with, and Giselle's the one she hates the most. My nutty sister's done everything short of pitch Giselle off the balcony to express her disapproval. But you know what? It's my life. If I want to have a little fun with Giselle, that's my business, not Kala's. She's proven time and time again that she'll do whatever she wants with her boyfriends.

Sometimes I really worry about Kala. She can't seem to stay with the same guy for more than a month. Part of the problem is that she's beautiful and she knows it. Even with the freaky Goth makeup and wardrobe, they're practically lining up to ask her out. That's no good for her – one day her head will swell so much it'll pop right off, and we'll have another Giant Floating Head in the family. Sometimes I can bring her back to earth by calling her Jor-El Junior, but more often than not these days she just glares at me and sticks her nose in the air. It's like she bought the whole 'legacy of a dying race' thing and considers herself the Last Princess of Krypton or some bull like that.

Yeah, the House of El is old and famous, but so what? I'm interested in the practical part of the legacy, not in the nobility of continuing Krypton's vastly superior culture, blah blah blah. I'm my father's son, and I just want to help him in his duty. Not because some brilliant scientist sent him here to uplift a primitive, savage people, but because Earth is my home. The whole of humankind is my people. Sure, people do some dumb things that never would've happened on Krypton, but we're talking about an entire race with their heads so far up in the clouds that they never realized their planet was about to freakin' _explode_. Jor-El really doesn't have room to talk about humans.

Not that the legacy doesn't give me hives, too. I mean, every kid has some stress in their teenage years, trying to figure out who they are and what they want to do with their lives. It's worse if one of your parents is famous, because then you can't just settle for being a decent wage-earning guy; you have to really _be someone_ , to prove that your famous parent isn't a fluke, that their genes and their philosophy can raise a child as awesome as they are. And if your mom is two-time Pulitzer-Prize-winning journalist Lois Lane, it's enough pressure that Dr. Marrin has talked to me about taking something for the stress. He doesn't even know about Dad – now _that's_ pressure. I have to live up to _his_ example, and those are some really big boots to fill.

So I guess it's normal for me to be feeling all freaked out and wondering if I'm actually good enough to be the next Heir to the House of El (there should really be some kind of trumpet fanfare every time Jor-El says that). Hey, I'm doing better than a lot of guys my age – I know where I'm going in life, I just don't know if I can actually get there. A lot of people haven't got that much figured out yet.

The only person I know who totally had it together is Sam. He knew he was going into the Army since he was like five. It's weird – the way Mom talks about Grandpa Sam, he seems like he wouldn't exactly be happy with the Troupe kids. Like maybe it would bother him that Uncle Ron is black. Which, incidentally, makes Kala laugh 'til she cries, because if interracial grandkids would bother him, interspecies ones would totally wreck his world.

But anyway. Grandpa Sam might not have been too happy with his namesake, but Sam doesn't know that. He totally idolizes his grandfather and wants to be an Army general just like him. Mom and Aunt Lucy weren't really happy with that, but Sam is dedicated – he's madly in love with America and democracy, and defending them is his calling. Some of Nana's Army contacts sat down with him when he was in high school, and talked to him about going to college first and joining the ROTC so he could come in at a higher level. That's what he did, and he loves it. I really believe there's going to be a General Troupe one day. Maybe by then I'll be able to tell him about how I'm planning to serve my country, too.

Or maybe not. Dad has always emphasized the need for secrecy. Not even Grandpa Ben or Kristin know, and they're always around people who do. I understand that, but Lana and Richard know, and nothing bad ever came of that. You'd almost expect Richard to say something about it. He's got that kind of sense of humor where I can imagine him saying, "Yeah, after Lois broke up with me, the only man good enough for her was _Superman_." On second thought, he probably _has_ said that, just not in public. Still, it would be nice to have someone my own age to confide in, you know? Someone besides Kala. Preferably a guy – there are things guys want to talk about that girls don't understand, stuff you wouldn't want to talk to your dads about, and it sucks to have to watch every conversation to make sure I don't accidentally let the secret slip.

I do have friends, but the guys in chess club don't really know me. Neither do the guys in my videography class. We can talk about the stuff that interests us, but I don't have anybody I can have really deep conversations with. I always have to hold back just a little, and I hate that. It really reminds me that I'm not exactly like other kids. As if accidentally using my x-ray vision wasn't reminder enough. I can watch those medical shows on TV and complain about how it doesn't really look like that. People are usually a lot globbier on the inside. It's never as neat as Hollywood wants you to think.

There are a few things that can help me forget how different I am. Music is one of them. I still play the piano, and I've started helping Mrs. Thomas with some of her younger students. Kala and I go to Lynn Stalmaster School of the Arts – she's in vocal, I'm in instrumental. It's a really strong academic school; only Spangler College Prep has better test scores, and we would probably stand out too much there. Plus they're a little too stodgy. At an arts school, everybody's weird, so even a couple of half-alien kids aren't going to attract much notice.

I take some of the film courses too. I really like movies, which is probably Richard's fault. He bought me a handheld DVR one Christmas, and I've been making short films with it. My favorite so far is _Godzilla Versus the Giant Vampire Women_. Yeah, so it's totally my iguana dropped on top of Kala when she fell asleep in full makeup. And it has a very anti-climactic ending. She woke up, saw the lizard, and started scratching his head and talking baby talk to him. Seriously, who does she think she's kidding? That's no way to treat a cinematic monster. If she really hated him like she says she does, she would've given me something decent to film.

Okay, so I mostly filmed my family and my pets, although Dad confiscated my very first masterpiece _Don't Pester Mom Before Her Coffee._ The beginning's slow – my voice asking Mom to look into the camera. Repeatedly. Answered only by groans, until Kala hears me and comes in. Then you have the stereo effect of both of us chirping "Mommy, lookit the camera. Mommy, lookit the _camera. Mommy_ , lookit the camera, _please_." She finally shoves the covers back and sits up, her hair all wild and her eyes mostly closed, and sees the camera. Mom really looks like a hibernating bear rudely awakened. Then she realizes what's going on, and yells for Dad to "come get this damn camera before I kill your psycho children." And Kala and I start giggling, because we think Mom's joking.

Looking back, I wonder how many times we almost died pulling stunts like that. I'm old enough now to realize that when Mom reared back and gave us that crazy look with the whites of her eyes showing, only her maternal instinct saved our lives. Anybody else who tried the kinds of nonsense we subjected her to would've gotten beaten to a pulp. And most of the time, Kala and I thought it was _funny_. She'd say stuff like, "Clark, please get the chirping hordes out from under me for a while before _I lose my freakin' mind_ and jump off the goddamn balcony," and Kala and I would laugh, "Mommy's silly!"

Poor Mom, she never really wanted kids. Oh, she loves us – that was never in doubt, not even for a second. But sometimes it shows that she _really_ wasn't prepared for us. Especially now that Kala and I are both taller than her. It's like she's constantly surprised by us; the first time I hugged her and accidentally picked her up, we were both pretty startled. And the fact that we're growing up, just by itself, sometimes boggles Mom's mind.

I think I'm the only one she's talked to about it. Once when I was showing little Michelle how to play 'Chopsticks', I caught Mom looking at me with this absolutely heartbroken expression. I asked her about it later, and she told me it seemed like just yesterday I was picking out simple melodies like that, stretching to reach all the piano keys. I guess time flies when you're raising kids. Mom told me no parent is ever really ready for their child to grow up – Aunt Lucy cried _so much_ at Sam's high school graduation, it was ridiculous – but it was worse for Mom, because she hadn't planned to have children. Everything was a surprise, and she was always constantly amazed by every little thing we did. Just about the time she got used to being the mother of twin infants, we turned into toddlers. By the time she adapted to toddlers, we were school age. And now that she'd gotten it all squared away, accustomed to having Dad and Richard and Lana in her life and to taking us kids to school, we turned around and became teenagers on her. Then _everything_ seemed to change even faster.

She was sitting on the couch, and I was leaning up against her shoulder. Mom was staring off into space, so far gone into her own mind that I'm not sure she even realized I was there. "Living with Kal-El isn't easy," she murmured. "But living with two teenagers, whom you _thought_ you knew every single thought that crossed their minds, and all of a sudden it seems like they're completely different people. Like you don't even know them anymore. Bad enough they're growing every time you turn your back on them, and your _daughter_ can reach stuff on shelves you need a stepladder for. Suddenly they're saying and doing things you never imagined, and you realize that they've become their own people – you don't have as much influence over them as you used to, and you hope you did a damn good job when they were little, because they're off and running into their future and nothing you can do will call them home…"

I kept silent, not sure what to say. There were tears in Mom's eyes, and the sight of them filled me with dread and wonder. Dread, that anything could frighten my incredibly gutsy mom. Wonder, that she loved us so fiercely. Still in that distant tone, she whispered, "And it doesn't help that Kal-El's never home, if it's not someone in the city it's the damn JLA calling him in for something stupid they should be able to handle by _themselves_. That's what the League is _for_ , making sure everybody has backup and nobody has to work 24/7 saving the rest of us from ourselves. But half the time if they don't call him he goes anyway because he's just too freakin' noble for his own good. We're lucky that _alone_ hasn't blown his cover. And when he _is_ home, sometimes it's no good even then, because I know I'm not getting any younger and he's surrounded by heroines in spandex half the damn day…"

"Mom, you're not old," I told her earnestly. To be honest, I was afraid she'd really forgotten who she was talking to and was about to tell me something I didn't want to hear. Kala and I already had soundproofed rooms and expensive earplugs; none of our parents had bought into the idea that romance dies when you hit thirty-five. But I did catch the drift of her fears, and tried to soothe her. "Besides, Dad only has eyes for you. It's really kinda gross how he's still mooning over you after being married so long. You two are worse than some of the kids at school."

At first my voice startled her, but then she smiled at me. It was still a bittersweet smile, though. "When he's here," Mom murmured, and then kissed my forehead. "My sweet boy, comforting his poor old vain mother."

"You're not _old_!" I protested, scowling at her. She arched an eyebrow at me, and I crossed my arms in my best Mad Dog Lane impression. Mom's eyes narrowed in caricature of herself, and I responded by squinting and pouting at her. We both cracked up, Mom laughing 'til tears ran down her face, and she kissed my cheek again.

Those recollections got me through my morning routine, and I opened the bathroom door, already thinking about what I'd wear to school today.


	3. Act One :: Teenagers :: How Far We've Come

**Welcome to this week's installment. This is where we launch directly into the meat of the story itself. Welcome to the Family Lane-Kent (or Family El, if you're a Jor-El fan) yet again. Trust me, it'll be more than proven before the end that, no matter what name you call them by, adventure does truly run in the family. ;)**

* * *

Jason yawned as he opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, still blinking blearily. It was far too early for him to be functioning at peak performance, which was probably why what happened next took him completely by surprise.

A hand seemed to shoot out of nowhere and ruffle his hair. "Morning, Dopey," Kala said cheerily, leaning up against the wall as Jason flinched away, trying to smooth his hair.

"Knock it off." He glared cross-eyed at the one stubborn curl that had fallen down onto his forehead before frowning at her. "Stop messing with my hair, Kal! Isn't it like a Goth law that you can't be up and perky at this hour?"

"Goths have no laws, only guidelines, and the true measure of coolness is your ability to break them without losing your essential Goth-ness," his sister replied, darting her hand out faster than his eye could follow and mussing his hair again. "You, on the other hand, dear brother, shall suffer the curse of the super-curl today, since you beat me to the bathroom first by some nefarious means."

"Nefarious means?" Jason said archly. "No, I just woke up first because my butt was hanging off the bed. I almost fell on the floor, thanks to you."

She snorted and slid past him into the bathroom like a queen to her throne. "Sometimes I worry about you, Jase. Every boy in school would just _love_ to wake up next to me, and all you do is complain." On that note, she shut the door in his face and locked it.

"Yeah, I'm your _brother_ ," he shot back, thumping the door irritably. "You've been hogging my space since the _womb_. Trust me, Kal, the thrill's long since worn off."

Kala laughed merrily, and Jason headed back into his room. Gazeera was awake; Kala had probably stirred him up before she left the room, and Jason opened the cage to soothe his pet. The iguana, once a cute, big-eyed baby lizard, was now six feet long, with a broad head and heavy jowls. His legs and tail were strong, his claws long and curved, and his jaws powerful enough to severely demolish any rampaging vegetables in the vicinity. His species was quite long-lived, much to Lois' chagrin, and with excellent care he might see another ten years. "Hey, big guy," Jason murmured, stroking Gazeera's spiny back. "How's my monster today? Wanna go out on the balcony and get some sun before I have to go to school?"

The lizard seemed sluggish, so Jason left him in the cage, taking his water bowl and food dish when he left the room. His first task every day, before even having his own breakfast, was to provide for his pet. Mom and Dad insisted on both kids learning responsibility. Jason filled the dish with fresh veggies from the fridge and added a couple of fruit slices, then washed and refilled the water bowl. By the time he got back to his room, the timers had turned Gazeera's cage lights on, and he was basking on his highest perch, eyes closed. Jason left him his food and went back to the kitchen to wash his hands again and see what was for breakfast.

Dad had come back from his morning rounds and coffee was brewing. "Good morning, son," he said when Jason re-entered the kitchen. "Waffles sound good?"

"Sounds great," Jason replied, pouring himself a glass of juice and sliding onto a chair at the table. "Anything interesting today?"

"The usual nonsense," Clark replied, dropping two waffles into the toaster and getting the maple syrup from the fridge. "Although I stopped by the harbor just for a lark, and busted one of the container ships coming in with an unscheduled shipment. Forty refugees seeking political asylum. The way they were living on that ship … it's illegal to treat a _dog_ like that in this city." He shook his head. Clark rarely expressed political views, especially on such topics. To be technical, he was an illegal immigrant himself, although Jason doubted any government official would have the nerve to try kicking _Superman_ out of the country.

As if the mention of the word 'dog' had summoned her, Bagel came running, whining and yipping like the puppy she no longer was. She hit Jason's legs at a dead run and swarmed most of the way up into his lap, licking his face excitedly, her white-tipped tail beating a staccato rhythm against the table. "Hello, Bagel," Jason laughed, grabbing her head so he could kiss her nose without getting licked in the mouth. "And hello, Bagel's breath – _whew_! Dad, have you been brushing her teeth?"

"It's your mom's week to do it," Clark replied. "Which means she's been getting those dental bones and celery every day."

Jason chuckled, patting the little dog's side as she sprawled contently across his lap. "You know, Kala and I won't get you two any more pets unless you can take proper care of the one you have," he admonished teasingly.

"Aw, but I always wanted a _pony_ ," he heard his mother growl, coming up behind him and lightly whapping him in the head with the newspaper. "Don't be a smartass, young man. Or, at least, not where your Mom can hear you." At his embarrassed expression, she smirked and padded barefoot past him to the coffeemaker, wearing a robe and carrying a now-empty coffee mug.

"Nickel for the cursing jar," Clark reminded her mildly as she passed him.

"Bite me, I haven't had my second cup of coffee yet," was her blasé reply. "It doesn't count at this hour. Even if it _did_ , I prepaid this week."

Jason snickered at her quietly. Mom would never quite fit in with the minivan-driving PTA crowd, but he liked her that way. No one else's mom had ever cussed out someone's dad for hitting her Audi and scaring her kids in the elementary school parking lot, leaving the poor man in tears. No one else's mom had a Pulitzer Prize on the mantle and another one she'd returned years ago. But then, no one else's mom ever got to fly with Superman any time she wanted, either. Lois couldn't really help being the coolest mom on earth.

Just as Clark set the plate of waffles in front of Jason, he heard a clatter of heels in the hall and Kala dashed into the room. "Hi Dad, hi Mom," she said, swiping one of Jason's waffles and rubbing Bagel's head.

Lois opened her eyes a little more, then narrowed them. "Kala Josephine, you know better. You can march yourself right back to your room and put on a different shirt," she said sternly. The blouse in question was black velvet, with a high mandarin collar but almost no sleeves. It also hugged Kala's figure tighter than her mother wanted to see. And this was not a new argument.

Kala's face had gone utterly blank at those words; she knew better than to look disgusted or defiant, as either one would provoke an argument. She simply stood up and turned around, her back very straight, and walked out of the room. Jason stared at the dog, not wanting to look up at his mother or his sister. He knew that Kala would have rolled her eyes extravagantly the moment she was out of sight.

Watching Kala's back, Lois couldn't help the way her mouth thinned in annoyance. Once she heard the door close, she closed her eyes and gave a heavy sigh. "I swear to God, she's deliberately trying to make me crazy. Everyone in this family knows it," Lois muttered unhappily, sipping her coffee.

Awkward silence ruled in the kitchen until Clark put another waffle on Jason's plate to make up for the one Kala had stolen. "Jason, are you two going to start handing out invitations at school today?"

"Yeah," Jason said. "And after school. We decided not to mail the ones for everybody in town. Besides, it's always fun to go pester people at work."

That brought something of a smile to Lois' lips, her voice colored with amusement. "That's my boy. Give Raines hell for me since I can't do it in person."

Jason chuckled. Aunt Tobie was now the Editor in Chief of the _Daily Star_ , traditional rival of his parents' newspaper, and EIC Raines never missed an opportunity to remind Lois that she outranked _Assistant_ Editor Lane-Kent. Lois, in turn, never missed an opportunity to remind Tobie that she hated administration and didn't want the Chief's chair, anyway.

In the wake of their merriment, Kala returned to the room, casting an almost palpable wave of frigid air ahead of her. Her back was perfectly straight, chin up, and Jason recognized the charm-school stride that Ella had once taught her. She'd gone around balancing a book on her head for weeks to achieve it. The shirt she'd chosen to replace the offending blouse was a long-sleeved faux-suede men's button-up. Kala could wear it for a nightshirt, it hung so low, and it covered everything including her hands unless she rolled the sleeves up.

Lois took one look and couldn't resist a snort of derision; as usual, Kala had gone overboard. Clark and Jason both glanced at her and then at Kala. The girl had seated herself primly, without meeting anyone's gaze, her expression still carefully blank. "Oh, give it up, Kala. The martyred ice princess act doesn't impress me," Lois stated sharply, as Clark set a plate of waffles in front of Kala.

Still studiously not looking at her, Kala cut her waffle, "Yes, Mother." Her voice was quiet and flat, deliberately measured, and Clark and Jason both winced inwardly. Any hint of scorn in her tone would've provoked a fight with her mother, but paradoxically, the utter lack of any tone whatsoever tended to have the same effect. Lois knew, after all, that the only reason Kala spoke like that was to suppress her sarcasm.

For a long moment, the silent room vibrated with tension, Lois glaring at Kala and the girl completely ignoring her. Finally, Lois just sighed in apparent disgust and stalked out to go get dressed, taking her coffee mug with her. Clark watched her go sadly, and put the waffles he'd made for her onto his own plate.

Jason hated the silence, hated the stiff, distant way Kala was still carrying herself. There was only one sure way to thaw her out. Giving her a small encouraging smile, he put his hand over hers. "Thanks for this morning," he said softly.

Those frosty hazel eyes met his after a moment. "For what? Messing up your hair?" Kala asked in a cautious tone, arching an eyebrow at him.

"You know what," Jason replied, squeezing her hand gently. It normally didn't take more than that…

Kala actually smiled then, and it was like the sun breaking through stormclouds. "You're welcome," she said, and devilish humor gleamed in her hazel eyes now, warming them, as she squeezed his hand back. "Although you know I don't do it for your sake, Jason. I do it for Gazeera. He doesn't deserve to be disturbed in the wee hours of the morning."

"Yeah, wouldn't want him to miss his beauty sleep," Jason replied easily. "He might wake up looking like your weasel."

The expression on his twin's face was indignant. "Captain Bonnie is a gorgeous ferret!"

"She's a rodent with pretensions. And an identity crisis. At least Captain Jack knew what he was."

Kala couldn't help but agree on that one. "Jason, it's not her fault everyone told us she was a boy." The ferret purchased to replace Captain Jack was supposed to be a black male like him, but the first vet visit had corrected that misapprehension. Kala named her new pet after a famous cross-dressing female pirate to highlight the hilarity. "And I'll have you know that she's a mustelid, not a rodent. Learn your taxonomy, science geek."

"Little, furry, and it squeaks. Rodent."

"Carnivorous, long-bodied, with a short, furry tail. Domesticated form of the European polecat, _Mustela putorius furo_. In other words, _ferret_."

Bagel, who had been blissfully lying across Jason's lap getting her tummy rubbed, chose that moment to lift her head and sniff Kala's arm. Her tail began to wag faster and faster. Fast enough that Clark had to ask, "Kala, is that Richard's shirt?"

Looking instantly guilty, his daughter gave a little laugh as she sipped her juice. "Busted by the hound," Kala sighed, putting the glass down and rubbing Bagel's head again. "I bet she smells her cousin on it. Yeah, it's his. He said I could borrow it _this_ time, though."

"He probably gave up after all the times you've stolen it out of his closet," Clark admonished her gently with a shake of his head. "You always come back from Richard and Lana's with twice as many clothes as you had before."

The black-haired girl gave a shrug. "She's a designer, Daddy," Kala said with a charming smile. "She _wants_ me to model stuff. If _I_ like it, she knows it'll sell."

"Modeling stuff does _not_ equal raiding Lana's closet, Kala. Or Dad's," Jason said, rolling his eyes just before shoving another forkful of waffle in his mouth. "You never see me over there stealing clothes."

"Oh, but Lana has this green skirt that would look so fetching with your typical plaid," Kala teased him, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. "You could tell people it was a kilt."

The unamused glare he gave her was pure Lane. "We're not Scottish, Kal."

"Some of those historical Kryptonian outfits have more than a little kiltishness about them," she pointed out, polishing off the last of her waffles. She took another long drink of juice to wash it down before adding, "You could carry it off, I think. You've got the knees for it."

"Kal, you're weird," Jason said affectionately.

"Jase, you're weirder," she replied.

With normality apparently restored, Clark leaned on the breakfast bar and looked at them both. "So you're delivering party invitations after school," he said. "How are you traveling, and when should I expect you at home?"

"Subway," Jason said. "We split up the list last night, so maybe two hours, three tops."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Kala added.

"So we'll see you by six, or I expect a phone call from each of you telling me where you are, how many invitations you have left, and when you'll be home," Clark said. Kala gave an exasperated groan at that, but he ignored it; if the twins felt he was overprotective, Clark didn't mind, just so long as they kept in touch. "Both of you have your phones? And they're fully charged?"

At that, Kala and Jason grinned at each other and replied in unison. "Yes, Dad."

Clark couldn't help his chuckle. Moments of solidarity between the twins always had that effect. "Good. Remember to turn them back on after school lets out in case we need to get hold of you. And be careful on the subway."

"Yes, sir, we will," Jason said. He knew that Clark was warning him of more than the usual subway dangers. Any mugger who attempted to snatch Kala's purse was in imminent danger of blowing the family's cover if she backhanded him across the train.

"Good kids," Clark said with a smile. "Now, if you'd like, your mother and I can hand out the invites to everyone at the office for you. Save you a little time."

Another groan from the peanut gallery as Kala pouted. "Aww, but I _like_ coming to the newsroom," she wheedled. "We were going to do those last, so we could hang around."

"That's fine, but you won't be able to linger," Clark told her. "The investors are coming in tomorrow morning, and everyone's going to be rushing around in a panic trying to make the place look good today. Why they think a working newsroom should be neat and tidy escapes me…"

"Because none of them have ever worked at a newspaper?" Jason offered. "C'mon. We all know the sloppier the desk, the more brilliant the reporter."

"And we all know that your Uncle Perry was talking about your mother when he said that," Clark pointed out. "It doesn't necessarily apply to everyone. _My_ desk is only a little messy, after all."

Lois came back out of her room, dressed for work with briefcase in hand, pausing in the kitchen to fill a travel mug. And with her reappearance, Kala finished her juice without saying another word. Jason and Clark shared a brief look, full of exasperation at the two women. Why was it so necessary for them to bicker like this?

Topping off her coffee, the elder of the two women cruised out of the kitchen and made her way toward the door and the coat rack. "All right, everybody, load up and move out," Lois called, jingling her keys in warning. "Mom has a meeting with her department first thing, so let's move."

"Don't forget your jackets, kids," Clark added from right behind her as he put his on, and both twins groaned. Their half-Kryptonian metabolism meant that they didn't feel the fifty-degree weather as much as most people, and they tended to forget to wear warm clothes.

Finally ready, they all trooped down to the building's garage, leaving Bagel sniffing forlornly at the door. The ride to school was fairly pleasant since Kala had warmed up enough that she stopped giving everyone the silent treatment. Due to their parents' work schedule, Kala and Jason arrived earlier than most students, so they had plenty of time to go by their lockers and socialize before class began. They were out of the car with only brief goodbyes, hurrying to see their friends.

Clark sighed as he watched them go, and heard Lois echo him unconsciously. She drove off looking pensive, and he gently took her hand. "Still can't believe how fast they grow up," he murmured.

"Oh, please, don't be clichéd." Her tone was studiedly blasé, but her fingers tightened around his. "Growing up is what kids do. They can't be little forever. We'd be pissed if they never got old enough to tie their own shoes. Or go places by themselves. It's a relief to not have to chase monsters out from under their bed at three in the morning anymore, I'll tell you that. "

He knew her better than that. Even if no tension showed on her face, he knew her stomach had to be clenching at that thought. "It would be nice to keep them small and agreeable," Clark said gently. "Well, _mostly_ agreeable. And they ate a lot less when they were little – I swear you could feed six adults on Jason's consumption alone."

That was enough to bring on a snicker of amusement out of her. "Yeah, right," Lois chuckled. "Like _you_ eat like a bird. Guess we both know where they got their metabolisms, huh?"

"From _you_ , of course," Clark countered. "Lois, no other woman your weight can eat an entire pizza by herself, with breadsticks and hot wings on the side, and still be hungry for dinner. Not unless she has tapeworms or something."

That earned him a roll of her eyes. "You're exaggerating," she said dryly, a smile playing around the corners of her lips. "I could manage the pizza and the wings, but not the breadsticks too. It'd still be at least four hours before I had dinner."

"And you still wouldn't gain an ounce." Clark said this appreciatively, moving his hand to her thigh and running his fingers over the smooth fabric of her skirt.

That was enough to finally break her melancholy mood. Lois smirked; he wouldn't distract her while she was driving. Not much, anyway. "Yeah, but I have huge feet," she said teasingly.

"You wear a size six," Clark protested, then realized she was just taunting him. Typical. "Very funny. If you weren't driving, Lois, I'd rumple your hair for that."

Grinning wickedly, Lois checked the surrounding traffic. They were out of the school zone, and Metropolis' infamous gridlock hadn't yet begun in earnest. "Is that so, Mr. Kent?" she purred wickedly, and floored the accelerator. "I guess I'd better not give you the opportunity."

Clark yelped; ten years still hadn't accustomed him to Lois' driving. In the excitement and anxiety of watching her pilot her Audi through the streets, he completely forgot what he'd been meaning to say about the confrontation that morning. While Clark didn't entirely approve of his daughter's fashion sense, he recognized her stubbornness as coming from Lois, little though Kala would admit it. That meant, essentially, that Kala would resent his disapproval. He might be able to convince her to stop wearing that particular blouse, but she would be hurt, and it could turn into one of those 'issues' Kala was so prone to having. The less he commented, the more likely she was to simply forget about it on her own.

Unless Clark felt _very_ strongly about something, he tended to let it slide with Kala, not wanting to provoke the kind of heart-wrenching defiance she showed her mother. It wasn't the best parenting technique in the world, and he knew it, but it kept what was left of the peace in the house. And in the grand scheme of things, what was one nearly-sleeveless blouse, anyway? There were far more important things to worry about, and so far, Kala had been obedient about curfew and other such rules.

He'd meant to try to gently discuss things with Lois. She tended to be very tough on Kala, very demanding, and though Clark didn't dare tell her, Lois was behaving much the same way her own father had, though without General Lane's intense and lifelong disappointment. Clark's leniency only made her more stringent, and they needed to strike some kind of a balance before Kala really got set into rebellion. He loathed seeing the two of them at each other's throats.

Perhaps it was best that they didn't get a chance to talk about it. Those kinds of discussions made Lois incredibly defensive, and she often turned accusatory. At least this way they got to have a reasonably pleasant morning. As Lois pulled into her reserved spot in the _Daily Planet_ garage, she asked quietly, "Am I still covering for you at lunch?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Hal and Wally both had scheduling conflicts this weekend, and Bruce can't do Friday. It's got to be today. Annoying for those of us with day jobs…"

Lois raised a skeptical eyebrow as they got out of the car. "So you're planning to fly out to the satellite, have the meeting, and make it back here in under an hour? While everyone is running around chasing their tails because the investors are coming?" There was no missing the disbelief she didn't even try to hide. And the look she gave him was starting to become more and more common of late. "That's cutting it pretty close, hero."

"I might have to get locked into a men's room somewhere," Clark said apologetically. Lois looked away to conceal her thin-lipped, unhappy expression as soon as he said that, but he knew her too well. "Lois, come on. We're getting a lot better about trimming the meeting times. Dinah's Chairwoman now, and she doesn't let anyone get too sidetracked…"

She had heard this particular excuse a little too often. Lois waved him off, sighing heavily. " _Fine_. Go. I'll cover for you. I always do. I'll keep the dogs off us as long as I can. Just remember, you _are_ the International Editor. You need to be fairly visible. You're third from the top of the paper, and your department expects you here the day before the investors arrive."

"I know. If I have to leave the meeting early, I will." Noting both the resigned tone in her voice and the way she was hiding her face behind her fall of hair, he added tenderly, "Lois, you know I'd rather be here with you."

"Yeah," she sighed again, still not looking at him as they made their way into the building. He didn't have to see her face to know his words hadn't had the desired effect, that her expression hadn't lightened. "Yeah, I know. Let's get inside before we're late."

…

Kala headed to her locker with one last friendly punch to her brother's shoulder. Both of them had arts classes in the same building, but while the instrumental department tended to practice in the afternoon, the vocal majors used the rooms in the morning. So Kala's first few classes rarely required books, and her locker was closer to her last class of the day so she could ditch her heavy math book on the way home.

This meant she was well out of Jason's sight when she stopped to unload her book bag. With a quick glance along the hall, Kala took off her jacket and unbuttoned the long-sleeved suede shirt to reveal her velvet blouse beneath. She was careful to fold the shirt and tuck it into her bag; if she forgot to put it back on before she headed home, Mom would surely catch on, and she'd be forced through a wardrobe inspection before leaving home everyday.

Of course, if that ever happened, she'd just start leaving clothes at her friends' houses and having them bring her favorite stuff to school. It would be extremely complicated and probably cause a huge fight if Mom found out, but Kala wasn't willing to admit defeat. If the blouse was permitted by the school dress code, she should be able to wear it, and not be forced to bow to Mom's taste in clothes.

Feeling triumphant, Kala strolled over to the theater building. The breeze nipped at her cheeks, and she settled into the shelter corner of the theater doors, waiting for her friends to arrive. Kala was taking an acting class this year, and she'd made friends with a lot of the theater majors. They didn't think she was weird or rebellious or scary. Then again, people who would randomly break into monologues from obscure plays were probably not the best baseline for 'normal'.

Better than the majority of the vocal majors. They seemed to come from the same mold: pretty but bland, with sweet, clear voices and spotless consciences. Most of them seemed to like only fluffy little pop songs with no real substance. Only a few others were like Kala, putting the full range of emotions into their singing. Kala referred to the conformists as the Sugar Candy Choir. When they practiced, she liked to insert herself into a group of them, disconcerting them with her black clothes and intense singing.

Chuckling at that thought, Kala didn't see her best friend until he sat down next to her. Sebastian Velez, called Sebast, draped his arm around Kala's shoulders, sharing the warmth of his black leather jacket with her. His tawny skin set off his naturally jet-black hair and dark eyes, and most of the girls at school had swooned over him in vain. "How's my platonic soul mate this morning?" he asked Kala.

"I'm fine," Kala replied, and leaned on his shoulder. Sebast was the one guy in her life who was perfectly safe, without any ulterior motives; she could be affectionate with him without worrying what he'd expect from her, or what he'd tell his buddies later. "So how's Evan?"

"Evan is now ex-Evan," Sebast tossed off dismissively. "I can't have anything to do with a guy who hates _Miss Saigon_. No theater taste whatsoever and the fool thinks musicals are trite." He shuddered melodramatically, and Kala gasped in mock-horror. "So he is out the door. Finished. _Over_. And so I'm on the prowl again. Let's not have a repeat of Valentine's Day, okay?"

Kala snickered; they had both sent Candy-Grams to the same guy last year. "I bought mine first," she insisted.

Sebast made a face at her, frowning. "My poem was better."

"Better than _Jason's_ , maybe, but neither one of us got anything out of it, so hush. Besides, the guy wasn't worthy of either me or you." They both laughed for a moment, then Kala sighed. "Maybe if Jason _had_ written a better poem, Elise would still be coming over every weekend…"

"Nah, it wasn't the poetry," Sebast put in. "It was dropping the M-bomb. Seriously. No fifteen-year-old boy talks marriage unless he's seriously depraved. No matter how cute your brother is, he couldn't have saved that one."

"Yeah, I just wish he would've picked _anyone_ else for his rebound. _Anyone_. That little slut Giselle Davenport…" Kala growled under her breath. "She laughs at my dad behind his back. And she thinks Lana is hopelessly old-fashioned. She thinks Mom's a bitch, too."

"At least you two agree on something," Sebast teased gently, and Kala elbowed him.

"She's my mom, I'm allowed to say she's a bitch. Nobody else. And Giselle's a complete _idiot_ for the rest." Kala slid down the wall a little further, nestling in the crook of Sebast's shoulder. "I don't get what Jason sees in her."

"A cute butt, perky boobs, nice hair, and a pretty face," Sebast said, shrugging. "Trite, but true. All the guys are jealous of him."

"Sebast, she _has_ no butt. No butt, just a void where one would be if she wasn't a Fembot. Skinny little spawn." Kala made a face; her brother's girlfriend was currently the bane of her existence, the only person on earth more annoying than her mother. "Besides, Jason doesn't think like that. He cares about stuff like intelligence and sense of humor, thank God. We taught him right."

"Yeah, and look where looking for those qualities got him," Sebast said with a chuckle. "Elise broke up with him, so maybe he's going for something simpler. Just let it go, Kala. You can't stop him, and he won't stay with Giselle forever. When he catches on to how Giselle really feels about your parents, he'll drop her like a hot rock."

"I hope so," she muttered. "The sooner, the better. I've tried _everything_ to get rid of her, and she just keeps hanging around like a bad odor. None of his other girlfriends were this persistent."

Sebast was quick to point out one certain fact. "None, except Elise."

"Yeah, but the difference is that I _like_ her," was Kala's immediate reply. "Elise hung around because she figured out I didn't really hate her. Giselle does it to spite me. Nasty little…"

Kala lapsed into muttered profanity, and Sebast just sighed heavily. He let her go on for a moment before redirecting her. "Are you working tonight?"

"Nah," she said. "Joe gave me Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday off this week. You'll have to shop for your linens tomorrow if you want to use my employee discount." A thoughtful conversation with her father about the value of service had led to Kala taking a part-time job after school, working as a cashier in a nearby branch of Bed n' Bath. It was supposed to teach her about being a public servant, but so far she'd mainly learned that people were jerks, at least when they shopped.

"So are you free tonight?" Sebast asked. "This new place opened up. They serve energy drinks, fruit smoothies, and fifteen kinds of coffee all night long. Poetry slam on Wednesday nights."

"Wish I could," Kala said with a grin. "This afternoon, Jason and I are delivering invitations to the grand soiree this weekend. Speaking of which…" She reached into her book bag and brought out a silver-edged envelope.

"You know I'll be there," Sebast said as he opened the envelope. The invitation itself was black, lettered in silver, and the venue listed was the height of elegance. "The ballroom at the Centennial? _Whoa_. Kala, what…?"

"Uncle Perry said he wanted us to have a real grown-up birthday party," Kala responded, hazel eyes shining with excitement. "It's not exactly black tie, but dressy – you'll be fine, Sebast, you clotheshorse."

"Anybody else from school invited?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Only the best people," Kala announced with a haughty tone before dropping her voice back to normal, winking. "Don't worry, I invited enough boys for both of us. _And_ I have an invitation that'll surprise my brother."

"You didn't," Sebast said with mock-amazement, already chuckling. Only Kala would dare at this point.

Her grin told him her answer before she even spoke. "Oh, I did. Soon as she gets off the bus, I'm inviting Elise."

…

Jason headed toward his first class of the day, Algebra. He actually liked math first thing in the mornings; he was finally awake by this time of day, and with a good breakfast pleasantly filling him, he found his mind was at its clearest. All good things for math classes. Jason had been told that musicians were supposed to be naturals at math, or vice versa, but he sometimes felt intimidated by all the complicated formulas. He was _good_ at math, but he didn't always _enjoy_ it. Tackling it first also got the chore out of the way before the classes he did enjoy.

On the way there, he met Giselle, as he did most mornings. She was in several of his classes, including Algebra, and they often studied together before class. It was an interesting change to be the one tutoring someone else; Elise had often helped him…

Jason shoved that thought out of his head. Elise had her summer boyfriend and whoever she was seeing now, she could teach _him_. Them. Whatever. He had Giselle, and she was always delighted to see him. She hugged him tight, kissing his cheek, and he grinned broadly at her. "Hi," Giselle said breathlessly, dark eyes locked on his.

"Hey," Jason said, just holding her for a moment. Giselle was an exotic mixture, half Dutch, half Chinese. She had the delicate features and green eyes from her mother's side of the family, and the black hair and skin tone of her late father. It all added up to a girl no one could ignore, and she was _his_ girlfriend.

Giselle sighed happily, leaning against him, and Jason forgot the rest of the world. No, she wasn't Elise, she wasn't his ideal girlfriend, but she was a really nice girl, and everything stressful in his life disappeared when she was in his arms.

Someone nearby cleared his throat, and Jason looked up, startled. "PDA," one of the teachers said mildly as he passed by, and Jason blushed as he stepped back from Giselle. The rule prohibiting public displays of affection was less stringently enforced at Stalmaster than at most schools, artists needing to encourage and congratulate each other's work, but too much snuggling was still frowned on. Giselle giggled, and her bright-eyed smile got an indulgent one from the teacher before he moved on.

"Hey, Jason, did you finish the homework last night?" Giselle asked. She didn't wait for the answer; she already knew it. "I don't think I did it right. Can I check my answers?"

"Sure." Jason took her hand as they walked to class. "Before that, though, there's something I want to give you."

"Oh?" she asked, looking up at him with bright anticipation. Giselle knew the twins' birthday was Saturday, and she'd overheard some of the party plans. So she wasn't at all surprised when Jason stopped to pull an invitation out of his bag. The dark-haired girl only glanced at it before impulsively hugging him again. "Of _course_ I'll be there," she trilled in his ear. "And I might have an extra-special present for you…"

"You _are_ the present," Jason sighed, kissing her hair. Love welled up in him, and only the knowledge that teachers were prowling the halls broke the pair apart.

* * *


	4. It's Not Me, It's You

**We figured what the hell? For those of you that are currently reading, we decided to give everyone the treat of posting earlier. Better than a trick, huh? Enjoy all!**

* * *

_**Isn't life a game of touch and go  
Girls talk high,  
Boys talk low.  
It's not me, it's you.  
Voices ring and echo.  
Psycho show,  
Memories flow.  
Now sing low,  
It's not me, it's you.** _

~ Prozzak, _**It's Not Me, It's You**_

* * *

Richard hunched forward over his desk, eyeing his computer monitor warily. His latest article, about test-flying a restored biplane, seemed to lack something. The _Aviation Journal_ wasn't a terribly demanding job, but he had his own standards, and this article wasn't quite meeting them. The technical details were there, the appreciation of the history was there, so what was missing? He frowned at the screen, pondering.

His phone rang, a welcome distraction. "Richard White, _Aviation Journal_ , Copilot's Comm, how can I help you?"

"Hello, darling." As always, Lana's voice completely changed the tone of his day. Richard's frown disappeared, replaced by a blissful smile.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmured, leaning back in the chair. "What's up?" While he spoke, his gaze roamed the wall of his office, hung with family photos: him and Lana at Lois' wedding, baby Kristin's first steps while holding Lana's hands, the obligatory family photo of _everyone_ at the annual Independence Day picnic at the Troupe house, him and Clark in front of the seaplane Clark had just successfully flown for the first time. Eventually his eyes settled on the most beloved photograph of all, a shot of himself, Lana, the twins, and Kristin, taken at the vacation cabin in North Carolina. The three kids were playing in a drift of fallen leaves, and Richard had gotten into the act, tossing a double handful of leaves at Lana. She was caught laughing; all five of them were laughing, in fact. Lois had even been laughing when she took the picture. It was their first joint family vacation, the first time he'd known that the future for both couples and all three children was really going to work out as wonderfully as it seemed.

"Well, your darling daughter has decided that she simply _must_ speak to her big sister," Lana said, with a touch of exasperation in her voice. "No matter how much trouble Kala would get in for having her phone on at school. I eventually managed to get her to settle for talking to Daddy instead."

"Put her on the line, then," he said. "And Lana? I love you."

"I love you, too, Richard," Lana replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. It was nice to know that talking to him affected her as much as it did him, that the contentment was shared. "Here's the princess."

A brief clatter as the phone was transferred to eight-year-old hands. "Hi Daddy!" Kristin chirped. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Talking to you, silly girl," he said. "Before that I was working, no matter what your mom tells you." Kristin giggled happily, sounding very much like Kala at her age. And like Kala, she knew perfectly well that her father's cure for an attack of 'gigglitis' was the application of 'tickle therapy'. Fortunately for her, Richard was in his office and not presently able to apply his favorite cure. "What are _you_ doing, giggle-monster?"

"Botherin' Mommy," Kristin replied, with more chuckles. "She says I can't call Kala cuz Kala's at big-kid school an' she can't have her phone on."

"Mommy is exactly right, as usual," Richard told her.

"But Kala said I could call her _whenever_ I wanted!" Richard could easily picture his daughter's pout.

"Yeah, well, your big sister is so smart, she has so many thoughts running around in her brain, sometimes she loses track of things. Like the fact that her phone is supposed to be off while she's at school," Richard explained patiently, not for the first time. "If she forgot to turn it off, and you call her, her phone will ring and she'll be in trouble. You don't want Kala to get in trouble, do you?"

"Kala says 'lee me not inta temp'shun, I c'n find it m'self'," Kristin recited, as Lana snickered in the background. "She says it means she's really good at gettin' in trouble."

"At least she admits it," Richard sighed. "Look, angel-baby, wait 'til Kala leaves school for the day. Mommy will tell you when, and then you can call her, okay?"

"Oh-kay," Kristin sighed heavily, drawing the word out. "Are you comin' home early today, Daddy?"

"Probably," he replied. "I can't stay away from the two most beautiful redheads in the world, can I?" The light compliment hid past altercations. His bosses preferred that the employees spend a lot of time hanging out with them after work, for 'networking' purposes. Richard knew it for pure brown-nosing, and refused to participate in spite of the fact that not doing so virtually guaranteed he would never get a promotion. He had better things to do most evenings than spend time with his coworkers, and had told his bosses precisely that. They left him alone because his column was well-liked by their readers, and because he didn't _need_ this job. If they irritated him, he could just walk away. Richard worked there solely because he enjoyed working, not because he needed money – and he'd explained _that_ to his employers, too.

"'Kay," Kristin said. "Mommy wants to talk when I'm done. I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, Kristin." Richard made kissing noises into the phone, getting a giggle and loud smooch from Kristin in reply, and then Lana was back on the line.

"Thanks, love," she sighed.

"How's everything going?" he asked, hearing an exasperated note in her voice.

"Pretty much as usual," Lana replied. "Deadline panic over the winter line, a certain little princess enjoying her early-release day a bit too much, all the typical delights. I'm looking forward to calling it quits for the day, actually."

"Me too," Richard said, glancing at the clock. Barely two in the afternoon – he couldn't quite sneak out this early. "Tell you what. How about we meet at three-thirty and head over to the _Planet_ to pester Lois and Clark? The investors are going to be there tomorrow, and they're probably both going half-crazy trying to make the place presentable."

"So you want to stress them out even more?" Lana teased.

"Nah, I'm bringing you and the kid. Between the two of you, you can probably solve most of the world's problems, you with diplomacy, Kristin with sheer cuteness."

That won him another laugh, and Lana said, "I'll pick up something to nibble on – if we arrive bearing mid-afternoon snacks, we're less likely to get thrown out of the building."

"You're on," Richard told her. They said their goodbyes, and he looked at the most recent article again. He finally saw what was missing from it: the delight he'd felt while piloting that ninety-year-old plane. It had been a rare and special moment, one he would never forget. Little wonder that talking to his wife and daughter had made him think of joy.

…

Jason sat down to lunch, his head spinning. He'd spent the time before his first class helping Giselle, and she'd thanked him with a kiss that so disrupted his train of thought, he'd nearly flunked the pop quiz. Thankfully, the worst test grade would get dropped at the end of the semester, so he wouldn't have to worry too much, but his chagrin at missing so many questions had made him work all the harder in history and English. He was still obsessing over that kiss, so sweet and tender, and that terrifying test grade, while walking up the hall to lunch.

A couple of the seniors were rough-housing as they walked along, just good-natured shoving and laughter, but they weren't looking where they were going. One of them bumped into a girl roughly, and she stumbled right into Jason's path, dropping her books. He snapped out of his daze and caught her with one arm around her waist, just before she would've hit the ground. None of the other students noticed how fast he'd moved.

Only after he caught her did he get a look at her face. _Elise_.

They stared at each other, equally shocked, Elise looking mortified. Jason almost dropped her, wanting to leap back as if he'd touched something scalding, but couldn't let her fall. He helped her up and steadied her, feeling his cheeks blaze. For a moment there, they'd been so close, he could've almost kissed her.

Elise pulled away, straightening her blouse and looking at him warily. They hadn't really spoken since school began, studiously avoiding each other even though they were both in the same chemistry class. Jason noticed a hundred little things: she was wearing a new perfume, she'd changed the way she did her hair, and in the few seconds he'd held her, he noticed a few more curves than last year. Jason found himself wishing he had some pithy remark that would let her know he was just fine without her, but he was too tongue-tied to speak.

"Thanks," Elise said after a moment. "Not bad, for the vice president of the chess club." She turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Jason stunned and hurt. When he sat down at a free lunch table moments later, not even the sliced jicama in his lunch bag appealed to him. With a sigh, he opened his math book. No sense in wasting time, and he _never_ wanted another test grade like that again.

…

Lois was having lunch at her desk, while simultaneously trying to clean off her workspace. So far, multitasking wasn't working out so well; her pristine copy of her latest story now had soy sauce spattered across both pages, and she'd accidentally used two pens instead of the chopsticks to pick up a piece of chicken. Clark could've done this in half the time and without any of the trouble, but he was so busy with the JLA that she'd likely wind up cleaning off _his_ desk for him.

Thoroughly disgruntled, Lois decided to stop trying to organize things and just make her desk presentable. To that end, she grabbed an entire stack of paperwork – the miscellaneous pile, not urgent but not quite ready to be recycled yet – and dropped it into a cardboard box beside her desk. She'd label the box and hide it in the supply room later…

A small piece of paper floated off the bottom of the stack and landed by Lois' shoe. It was a postcard, and Lois recognized the beach photo on the front. Beautiful white sand, palm trees, and a sky so blue it reminded her of Clark's eyes. She sat down and picked up the postcard, smiling wistfully as she turned it over. There was her address in Lana's neat handwriting, and beside it two colors of unruly crayon scrawl. "We luv you Mommy" was written in magenta, and "We miss you TOO" in forest green. A neater note had been added to the bottom in Richard's script, "You HAVE to see this place, Lois!"

The reporter found herself sniffling back tears. She could remember with absolute clarity the twins' first trip to the Bahamas. Lana had bought a beach house there shortly after marrying Richard, and they'd gone to the island for a week in December of the next year, taking the kids. Lois had stood on the dock at her sister's house, smiling and waving as the seaplane took off, but the moment Jason and Kala disappeared from her sight she hadn't been able to control her anxiety. Clark had held her once she started sobbing, waving a concerned Lucy off, and whispered in her ear that they could fly by and check on them tonight if she wanted.

In the end, they hadn't. That hadn't been the problem; she trusted Richard and Lana to look after them. Lois, even then, simply couldn't bear to watch her babies flying away from her. It had been her personal nightmare ever since she'd learned who their father really was. And it was also inevitable. Every child must grow up and grow away from their parents, grow into their own identity. But in spite of knowing that in her mind, Lois had wept for her heart's realization of it.

And now, though they were still in the same house with her every day, the twins seemed to be growing up so fast they might as well be flying. Not so long ago they had been tiny, well-behaved, and fragile; now they were taller than she was, bold and sassy, and super-powered. Other moms had to feel the chagrin of looking _up_ at their sons and daughters, maybe had to listen to the occasional backtalk, but Lois was the only one in the world who had to cope with a son who could pick up her car, and a daughter who could outrun it.

Her office door opened, and Lois slid the postcard under one of the photos on her desk for safekeeping. She blinked the haze of memory out of her eyes and turned toward the door with an exasperated expression. " _Yes?_ " she snapped.

Laurel, Lois' secretary, was unfazed by the look and the tone. She'd been hired three years ago, enough time to grow accustomed to her boss' temperament. Perry tended to tell ambitious cub reporters that his job was so difficult, he needed an assistant, and his assistant needed a secretary – which made Lois and Laurel roll their eyes in unison. "That department meeting got moved up," Laurel said in a voice of utter calm. "Mr. White told me it's set for fifteen minutes from now. One of the investors got here early, and they're keeping him out of the office by letting him sit in on the meeting."

Lois swore pungently, already grabbing her cell phone to send an urgent text to Clark. _I_ _ **told**_ _him he was going to be late,_ she thought angrily as she punched the keys. _And guess what? Imagine that, ladies and gents, I was_ _ **right**_. " _Great_ ," she growled aloud, the look of her face incendiary. "Laurel, will you grab my notes and meet me in the conference room? Oh, and I need the expense report for City. And the damn stock quote for the day. And…"

Thankfully, Laurel was practically psychic, as always. "I've got it," the younger woman reassured her. "I'll make you look organized like I always do, if _you_ can make your husband appear. Looks like he got sucked into a black hole during lunch. _Again_."

Lois bit her lip against another round of swearing.

…

Kala was staring at her algebra notes, not seeing them, just waiting for the third-lunch bell to ring. And she knew just what was ruining her concentration. It seemed like she was in a permanent state of annoyance with Elise; the girl had flatly refused to attend the birthday party. She had known it wouldn't be easy and she had tried her most persuasive wheedling, but Elise had just continued to stride past her with a flatly-repeated _no_.

Of course, it wasn't over that easily, not when you were dealing with Kala Lane-Kent. The two girls shared English class, and Kala boldly took the desk beside Elise despite the exasperated look on the other girl's face. "Okay, so this is the part where you tell me what your problem is," she said matter-of-factly.

"My problem is, I don't want to see your brother," Elise had said snappishly.

"So don't look at him," Kala had shot back. Why should she have to suffer for Jason's slip-up? "Look, the last time I checked, _we_ were friends, too. Don't you want to come to _my_ birthday party? Yeah, Jason's gonna be there, but so what? I'll disown him for the day if I have to."

Elise had finally turned in her seat to look directly at the black-haired girl. "Kala, stop it. You've never been a fan of Jason's girlfriends in the past."

"All except for you, 'cause you were actually worthy of the big dork," Kala interjected. "First one ever."

"And everybody knows you hate Giselle," Elise pushed on as if she hadn't spoken. "Kala, stop it! We both know you're just using me to get at her."

"No, that's what my brother's doing." Kala gave her a withering look that showed just how disappointed she was in her. "C'mon, Elise. Get a clue. Why else would a giant geek like him be going out with a hot girl who's got the brains of a Chia pet? He's trying to make you jealous," the black-haired girl retorted, frowning at her. "And wow, imagine that, it's working! Or at least, that's what he'll think if you don't come to the party."

"Jealous?" Elise had snorted imperiously. Turning back around, she opened her textbook as if she was fascinated with catenative verbs. "Kala, please. I have much better things to worry about than your brother. As far as I'm concerned, they deserve each other. If he wants someone whose measurements exceed her IQ, then let him have her."

"But that's not what he wants and we both know it." The impatience that Kala was feeling was becoming harder to hide. "Elise, he's always gone for intelligence first – I told you about how he had this monstrous crush on Jamie Sawyer during the most awkward phase of her life. She was like tall and skinny with coke-bottle glasses, but _brilliant_. That says a lot."

"Yeah, you told me," Elise muttered, gritting her teeth and resolutely not looking up. "Look, Kala, there's no point in talking about this. Get it through your head. Give up. I'm not going."

Kala had sighed melodramatically when all she really wanted to do was shake her. "Fine. Whatever. Your loss. It may have escaped you, but he's not the only person in this family who likes you. Not the only one who misses you, either. Mom sure isn't having stimulating discussions of world politics with the bimbo."

Even that last sally had failed, Elise studiously ignoring her, and Kala had finally admitted defeat. She rarely accepted failure, though, and it left her feeling discombobulated for the rest of the day.

On her way into lunch, she saw Jason sitting off by himself, staring into space. _Wonder what's up with lizard boy,_ she thought, but before she could go over to him her friends found her. Kala usually ate lunch with the popular-Goth clique, herself and Sebast being well-known members of it. Stalmaster had more Goth kids than most schools, largely because artistic temperaments tended to find the subculture interesting instead of scary. They were spread across every arts area, though Kala was the sole vocalist at the moment, and there were enough of them to create subgroups within the general heading of Goth. The witchy Goths were having lunch in the courtyard under a tree, the alienated Goths were off in corners by themselves, and Kala's group tended to take their lunch while sitting at the tables just outside the cafeteria.

A couple of freshmen who had unwisely sat down at their favorite table saw the solid mass of black-clad students approaching, and scurried away. Kala snickered; by the end of the year the new kids would know that the Goths weren't evil soul-sucking vampires … though they'd never find out one of them _was_ an alien. She dropped into a seat and opened her lunch bag. "Oooh, cherimoya," she said. "Anybody want half of a poisonous fruit?"

"I've got Pop-Tarts," Sebast said. "Raspberry, your favorite."

"Trade," Kala said, handing over a couple sections of fruit for a Pop-Tart. "Melissa, what've you got?"

"PB&J," the burgundy-haired girl sighed. " _Again_. I really need to send my mom shopping with your parents."

Kala hid her smirk; some of their household snacks were imported directly from South American rain forests, picked up by Dad on his flyovers. All three sets of Kryptonian taste buds in the Lane-Kent family yearned for flavors that just weren't available at the average grocery store. "Hey, I _earned_ this," she said aloud. "My brother and I were allergic to just about everything when we were little. Can't blame the 'rents for spoiling us a little now that we can actually have something besides macrobiotic shakes."

"So what're we doing this weekend?" Scott asked. His naturally dark hair was currently bleached blond, cut short, and spiked up with massive amounts of gel, a look that Kala found rather fetching.

"Well, if you all aren't too busy…" Kala began, grinning. Someone kicked her under the table, and they all laughed as she brought the party invitations out of her book bag. "But Sebast doesn't get one, because I don't want any competition," she teased.

"Yeah, right," he retorted. "I already have mine. And I'll definitely be there, if only to see this dress you can't stop talking about."

"What dress?" Melissa asked. She was a recent transfer to the school and still fairly new in the clique. Everyone else at the table groaned; they'd heard about it. Several times.

"Oh, just a little something for the party," Kala said airily. "Nothing special."

"Oh _please_ ," Sebast muttered. "She's getting an L. Lang original for her birthday. Custom made for her by Lana Lang herself."

" _Whoa_ ," Melissa said, eyes widening. "I really like her stuff … for a mainstream designer, she's got a lot of things I'd wear. How'd you get a custom-made dress?"

Kala smirked gleefully. "Well, maybe I'm just lucky."

"Or maybe it could be the fact that Lana Lang is her stepmother," Sebast supplied.

"No way!" Melissa said, eyes going wide.

"Way," Kala replied. "She's really cool in person. And she's not _technically_ my stepmother. She married the guy I grew up calling Dad, but my actual biological father came back into our lives and now he's married to my mom. So basically I have two dads and two moms, and she's one of the non-biological set."

"My head hurts," Melissa commented.

"Hey, don't get Kala started on her family," Scott drawled. "Half the people she calls relatives aren't actually related. And half of them are famous."

"I can't help it if I come from a well-known family," Kala protested. "Besides, not everyone is _famous_. They're just really cool, for the most part."

"Newspaper royalty," Sebast said to the confused Melissa. "Her mom's the assistant editor at the _Daily Planet_. Her dad's the International editor, and three of her uncles work there too – one's the Editor in Chief."

"I pretty much bleed ink," Kala added with a smirk.

…

Kal-El left his cell phone on silent in meetings; he could hear the faint buzz of electricity through the circuits when a call came in, so a ring tone wasn't necessary. And as was typical, a call came in at the worst possible time. He caught Dinah's eye and gave her a chagrined smile.

The Chairwoman sighed and waved at him to check his phone. Kal-El did so, making use of his super-speed, but they all saw his expression when it turned out to be a text message, not a call. "That has to be your wife," Bruce commented in a droll tone. "Not even a nuclear disaster puts _that_ look on your face."

Kal-El couldn't help his wince. "They moved up the department meeting. To _immediately_."

"She's thrilled," Bruce added, having met Lois on more than a few occasions. That provoked a chuckle from several of the JLA members who were acquainted with Kal-El's wife.

"We're done with the most important news," Dinah said. "You've got your identity to protect; go, and someone will take notes for you. Someone like you, Bruce?"

Bruce looked straight across at Wally. "Mind taking notes for the only guy here who can run a race with you?"

"Sure," he said. "Fly, Clark. We've got your back."

"Thank you," Kal-El said, cape swirling as he rose. He couldn't help giving Bruce a perfectly innocent smile as he added, "We should try doing this on Friday afternoons, when those of us who _aren't_ independently wealthy can leave work early."

"Well excuse me for being born rich," Bruce parried with a chuckle. "Maybe you should think about working nights. Or just getting out of a field full of people who are trying to guess your identity?"

"Only _one_ of them guessed it right," Kal-El retorted, turning to the door.

"So you married her," Bruce shot back.

"Which is why I'm busy nights," Kal-El said as he walked out, but Bruce didn't need to see the smirk on his face. He could hear it in the Kryptonian's voice, and he shrugged, admitting defeat while the rest of the JLA laughed.

Kal-El heard their amusement as he soared down toward Metropolis, knowing he only had a few moments to get there and change. Behind him, he heard someone mutter, "And _that's_ why I'm glad I'm single. No one to call me up out of a meeting. It's sad to see _Superman_ running to his wife's beck and call."

"Man, have you _seen_ his wife?" Wally said incredulously. "I'd answer her calls."

"It's not about Lois," Dinah pointed out sharply. "He has a _job_. If he's late often enough, his cover's blown. And then one of the _founders_ of the League would be discredited."

The same voice – Kal-El made a mental note to figure out which of the new members that was – asked, "Has anybody noticed the incongruity of _Superman_ having a _day job_? I mean, come on. Why is he down there on the street pretending to be something he's not?"

"Because he would rather be 'merely' human," Diana cut in, her tone warning. "Because he is well aware that his powers don't make him 'better' than the people he works with every day."

"Because he's a better man than you are," Bruce added. "And by the way, _he can still hear you_. Wherever he is."

Kal-El laughed to himself before tuning them out to concentrate on the _Daily Planet_ building. He picked out Lois' voice instantly, growling under her breath, "I swear, if he's late again, I'm gonna kill him. We're running out of freakin' excuses. Kal-El, wherever the hell you are, you _knew_ about the deadline and I sent you a text about the change. You'd better be here…"

Perry was at her side, scowling, with the rest of the department heads straggling along behind them. In the midst of the pack was the man Lois would've referred to as 'the walking wallet'; she tended to be a bit derisive of the investors, but this one was a decent guy. He startled as a sudden rush of air down the hallway mussed everyone's hair and sent a few papers flying. "Damn drafts," Perry muttered. "I've had the maintenance crew go over this building a hundred times, and we _still_ get these crazy drafts in the place. The remodel should've taken care of it, and it did for a couple years, but now…"

Lois smirked. She was the only one unsurprised when they walked into the meeting room moments later and Clark was already there, his briefcase on the table. Perry came to a halt in the doorway, staring at him incredulously, and Clark just looked back innocently. "Mr. White?" he asked. "I got the right conference room, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but we were meeting in the bullpen and _then_ walking over here," Perry said gruffly. "Never mind; at least you're on time." With that he went to his seat, shaking his head slightly.

Walking past Clark without ever breaking her stride or looking him in the eyes, Lois just tightened her hold on her notes while she followed the Editor. As she passed him, she muttered under her breath, "Once again, we can thank me for your continued survival." Despite the pointed edge to her words, those eyes sparkled devilishly as she slid into her own seat.

As usual, she'd chosen a moment when he couldn't actually respond. Clark caught Lois' gaze as she sat down, letting his grin speak for him. _You'll get yours later,_ that look seemed to say, and Perry sighed heavily when he caught them eyeing each other. "Down to business, people. We have a meeting to run here," he said warningly, but Lois and Clark both caught the glint of amusement in his eyes when he glanced at them.

…

"Your homework for tonight will be to watch fifteen minutes of a movie – any movie – and write down each shot and camera action used," Mrs. Sharpless said. "Oh, and I shouldn't have to say this, but it has to be live-action, and it has to be G or PG-13 rated." The final class bell punctuated her words.

A few of the students groaned, but Jason grinned. Now _that_ was what homework should be like every day. He picked up his backpack, already thinking about which movie to watch. The Lane-Kent household had more books than DVDs, but there was enough of a selection for his purposes. Jason headed out to meet Kala for the ride to the _Daily Planet_ , unconsciously hurrying in hopes of seeing Giselle.

"Hey!" Jason turned around and saw Nathan catching up with him. He waited for the shorter boy, a visual art major whom Jason had met in film class. "Didn't see you at lunch today," Nathan said as they walked down the hall to the stairs. "Were you and the hottie locked up in the photo lab or something?"

Jason couldn't help his unrestrained snort. "Not hardly," he replied with a grin. "I was in the cafeteria, studying."

Nathan sighed. "You didn't miss much." Jason usually ate lunch outside the music building, with a mixed group of instrumentalists and their friends from other arts areas. Nathan proceeded to fill him in on all the off-the-wall theories that had been floated around for Jason's absence. "Of course, Caleb said you probably got suspended for PDA."

"Caleb's a moron," Jason opined, smirking. "Nobody believed him."

"He's a pathological liar. But you _do_ have a tendency to be attached to Giselle's face all the time."

"Do not," Jason said. "And Caleb's just jealous because he doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Somebody told me he likes Kala." That said, Nathan automatically took a step away from Jason.

The dark-haired boy whirled, glaring. "You can tell him from me to get _that_ thought out of his head," Jason snapped. Nathan chuckled, and Jason shoved his shoulder. "You jerk. You're an only child. You don't have to worry about every guitar-playing stoner in this school trying to hit on your little sister."

"Little?" Nathan said incredulously. "Jason, Kala's _my_ height. And she's only like a minute younger than you."

"Whatever," the taller boy muttered. "Anyway, Caleb had better leave her alone. He's not good enough for her – and Kala will tell him that. I don't want to see him crying at the bus stop or anything."

Nathan gave an amused snort. "Yeah, you're _so_ overprotective."

"Shut up," Jason said, reaching into his book bag and pulling out an invitation. "You can come to the party if you promise not to give me any grief."

"I'll think about it," Nathan laughed when he took the invitation from him. "See you tomorrow at lunch?"

"Yeah. I've got to give the guys who aren't in band class their invitations too."

"Please tell me there's gonna be some girls at this party," Nathan muttered.

Jason gave him a long-suffering sigh. Rolling his eyes, Jason let him start reading before he replied. "You can bring a date. It's a grown-up party; Uncle Perry rented out the Centennial ballroom."

"Whoa!" Nathan's eyes got wide. "Okay, you can count me in. I'll be there just for that."

Laughing, they parted ways, Nathan going toward the buses, Jason heading for the front of the school. The dark-haired boy sighed as he merged with the flow of students struggling to get to their lockers, or to talk to each other in the middle of the hall. Jason preferred not to shoulder his way through, although when the crowds were at their worst he sometimes entertained the fantasy of simply jumping over all of them with super-strength. His leaps would break any Olympic record, but they wouldn't get him over the heads of a hundred chattering teenagers. Not to mention, that would pretty much destroy the family secret.

With that thought occupying his mind, Jason didn't even see Giselle until she sidled up and caught his hand. "Miss me, handsome?" she asked, swaying close enough to bump her hip against his leg.

Jason squeezed her hand gently, beaming at her. "Yeah, I missed you," he said. "How was your day?"

He only devoted half his attention to her answer, the rest to not bumping into anyone. She told him about her classes, her teachers, and one of her friends who was seeing some guy from the parochial school up the street, Jason nodding and making noncommittal sounds in all the right places. He knew, after going out with her for a couple of months, to let Gisele get all the day's gossip out before trying to talk about anything serious.

"…and thank you _so much_ for helping me with math," Giselle said, getting Jason's full attention again. "I think I passed the quiz, and I know I would've bombed it if you hadn't shown me how to do those equations." She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him, dark green eyes gleaming with delight, and Jason couldn't help grinning goofily at her. She was just so pretty that he couldn't help feeling silly every time she looked at him.

"You're welcome," he said after a moment. "I don't think I did so good … I was a little distracted when we went into class."

Giselle giggled, looking up at him with an odd combination of shyness and pride. A wave of protectiveness – and possessiveness – washed over Jason, making him stand a little taller as he beamed down at her.

Something struck his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and Jason turned around angrily only to see his twin glaring at him. "Hey, Dopey, pause your hormones and watch where you're walking. You almost stepped on a freshman."

As always, Jiminy Cricket in black lipstick managed to ruin a perfectly romantic moment. Closing his eyes for a moment, Jason gave a heavy sigh, his look to Giselle already apologetic. "Geez, Kala, I did not. You exaggerate everything."

"Do not," she responded with a smirk, but any other response was forgotten when those sharp eyes locked on Giselle. Just the sight of the girl was like a red flag, as always. Kala knew that part of her dislike of Giselle Davenport was due to the fact that she was Elise's polar opposite, but most of her annoyance with the other girl was an instinctive thing. And, as always, the need to drive her off overrode any propriety. "Giselle, what are you, a lost puppy? School's over! Go follow someone else home. We've got places to go, people to see, things to do … and you're none of the above. Especially not the last."

Giselle glared at her, a glimmer of hurt in those eyes, and Jason hugged her quickly. "I'm sorry, Giselle, you know how nutty my sister is," he murmured, before rounding on his sister. "Would you calm down?" he hissed in dismay. "Kal! Do you always _have_ to be rude?"

"To Pretty Princess Barbie? Yeah," she shot back without apology. The scornful look she gave the girl in question made it clear that she found her more than a little lacking. One hand on her hip, Kala gave a hard glance to her watch and then her dawdling brother. "Jason, it's after three now. We've got to cover half the town and go by the _Planet_ by six o'clock. We do not have time for you to stand around all moony-eyed and woogie-woogie with the placeholder." While he stared at her in open-mouthed shock and horror, Kala glared at the other girl again. "Seriously, Giselle. Beat it. I've got a heavy backpack and I'm not afraid to swing it."

At that, Giselle's pretty face crumpled with unhappiness, her displeasure all too clear. Having seen the reaction, Jason had half-turned away from her to swat Kala's shoulder, so she mouthed 'bitch' at Kala before turning smartly on her heel and stalking away. "Giselle, she can't help it if she's a heathen," Jason turned back to his girlfriend hurriedly to try to explain, before realizing she was already gone. "Giselle? Giselle!"

"Oh my God, whatever. Forget it, Dopey, we have more important things to do than cater to the Stalmaster Barrel of Whine." Muttering under her breath, Kala grabbed his elbow and started dragging him along. "How many times to I have to tell you that you're better off without her before you listen?"

The dark-haired boy turned then, favoring her with aggravated look while he threw his hands in the air. "Kal, why do you have to stick your nose in something that's none of your business? Just leave her alone!" Jason said in utter exasperation, yanking his arm away to glare down at her. Then his blue eyes widened in disbelief as he did a double-take. "You wore that shirt anyway?! Mom's gonna kill you!"

Kala gave her eyes a dismissive roll. Her brother always over-reacted to everything, especially if it involved their mother. All too often lately, Jason had been siding with Mom, even if his own sister was in the right. Attempting to push that uneasy frustration aside, she commented tartly, "Only if she _finds out_ , mama's boy. What're you gonna do, _tell_?"

The reply was enough to startle Kala. "Yeah," Jason said calmly and seriously, making her whip her head around with wide eyes. "Yeah, I just might. Unless…"

His sister's look was wary. Jason rarely resorted to manipulation in situations like this. "Unless … what? What do you want, you cheeseball?"

"Leave Giselle alone," was the stern reply.

Those hazel eyes narrowed as Kala crossed her arms over her chest. That little princess was completely and totally unsuitable for her thick-headed twin, something she'd been telling him for months, but he had yet to listen to reason. Well, just because he was clueless didn't mean she was going to back down from her campaign. Besides, it was for his own good. "If that's what you want, go on and tell, then, you big sissy tattletale," Kala snorted. "Nothing's worth having to put up with unfiltered twit for the rest of forever. Especially since you're never gonna wake up and grow a brain where she's concerned."

An annoyed frown threatened, his brows furrowing at those words. Kala had been like this ever since he had refused to speak to Elise their first day back at school. She'd been twice as outraged when he had started seeing Giselle a few weeks after school began, none of which had been reason to find fault with his current girlfriend. After a tense moment, as always where his twin was concerned, it passed and Jason heaved a sigh. "I only want one thing. I want you to be nice for my girlfriend for _one day_ , you little dork," Jason said finally, shoving her shoulder playfully. "I won't say a word to Mom about the shirt. All I'm asking is one day without your attitude. You don't have to like or approve, just don't comment. Can you handle that?"

There was a silent moment as Kala considered her brother's proposition, weighed the aggravation of blackmail against having to hear an extended lecture from Mom. "Tempting, but I still don't know if it's worth it, you _big_ dork."

There was a cure for Kala's nasty viciousness that only her twin brother knew. Without warning, Jason slung his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "Then do it because you looooooooooove me," he drawled, giving Kala his best big dopey smile.

Kala rolled her eyes, trying to resist Jason's innate good nature, but she was already grinning up at him. All she could do was give in and sigh. "Okay, _fine_. But only because I love you and you're my twin and we're supposed to have each other's backs for _ever_."

Jason squeezed her affectionately. "Love you, little sister."

The despised endearment simply made Kala wrinkle her nose. He never would let her live down that one-minute difference, would he? "Yeah, love you, too, lizard-breath," Kala replied in saccharine tones. "Now can we _please_ get going?"

"All right, all right," Jason backed off the 'cute', chuckling. He'd relent for now; there was no point in fighting over this anymore after he'd won that small concession from her. "I'd say 'race you to the subway,' but…"

At that, Kala gave him a superior grin as she linked her arm with his and they headed toward the metro entrance. "You just say that because you hate losing," was Kala's retort as they broke into laughter again.

* * *


	5. A Trip Down Memory 'Lane'

* * *

__**Baby face don't grow so fast**  
Make a special wish that will always last  
Rub this magic lantern  
He will make your dreams come true for you... 

~ Madonna, **_Dear Jessie_**

* * *

Jason took the subway further downtown, while Kala went uptown on the green line. She took a seat and dropped her bookbag in front of her, leaning back with a sigh and closing her eyes. The subway was _loud_ , and Kala liked to practice her concentration on the daily ride. Singling out one sound from hundreds, or blocking them all to focus only on her own heartbeat, helped her control her often-annoying super-hearing. She wasn't too worried about being bothered during the ride; Kala carried herself with a certain confidence that the average purse thief found off-putting.

In spite of that, though, within a few stops she felt a ghostly touch at her elbow. Her awareness snapped back to the present, but she didn't open her eyes just yet. The gentle brush of fingertips became a caress, someone's hand running lightly down her bare arm, and then back up toward her shoulder. "If your name isn't Nicholas Powell, you're about to get your ass kicked," Kala stated aloud, eyes still closed.

"Just seeing if you were in there," a male voice replied, and Kala turned to look at Nick sitting beside her. He was a college student who often took the subway around the time Kala got out of school, and sometimes talked to her. A good-looking blond, Nick seemed to have appointed himself Kala's protector whenever Jason wasn't around. His wicked grin was for her alone at the moment. "I worry about you, meditating on the subway."

"I'm fine," Kala replied loftily. "But thank you for being so chivalrous."

"You're welcome," he replied, reaching out to brush Kala's hair back off her neck. She looked at him archly as he continued, "I like this blouse. Especially the black-on-black embroidery on the collar here."

Kala met his eyes bluntly before she scoffed, "No, you like an excuse to play with my hair." Nick's flirting amused her, and she'd never told him to quit, although she didn't exactly encourage him either. He was too old for her, too likely to be interested in only one thing, but if they both walked away from a conversation smiling, well then, where was the harm?

In reply, he ran his hand into the raven waves at the nape of her neck, gathering up her hair and tightening his grip on it ever so slightly. Kala looked at him steadily, her face betraying no emotion other than challenge and wariness, in spite of the shiver down her spine. After a moment, Nick let go, running his fingers through her hair once. "You have great hair," he commented with studied casualness. "It'd be your best feature, if not for those eyes."

"And _you_ have an endless store of flattery," the dark-haired girl replied, pretending to stifle a yawn. The train came to a halt, and a few people got out of their car. No one else got on, as rush hour hadn't yet begun.

"At least I'm not missing my stop." Nick gave a wolfish grin when the doors had shut.

 _Oh, that just figures. **Boys**._ Kala couldn't resist a knowing smirk at him. "I'm not missing my stop, wise guy," she shot back wryly. "It has absolutely nothing to do with you, Mr. Powell. I'm riding all the way to University station today."

He hadn't seen that coming, as his astonishment was clear. "Oh really? And what's a little girl like you doing going to college?"

He was hardly getting on her good side with comments with that. "Hardly little." Kala made her tone positively world-weary, stretching in her seat and watching from narrowed eyes to see if she was succeeding in flustering him. "Well, I thought I'd get myself another college boy or two," she continued loftily. "Maybe start my own little harem and share it with Sebast. You're very much his type, you know."

"But he's not _my_ type," Nick said, smirking. "I prefer women."

The bait was too easy to resist. Her crooked grin nailed him to the spot. "Or jailbait who look older than they are."

"Sixteen's legal in this state," he told her calmly.

The Lane smirk was in full effect when she just as calmly informed him, "And if a good thing we both know I'm fifteen." Convinced that she had the upper hand – for the moment – she sighed and continued, "Anyway, I'm going to invite a family friend to our birthday party this weekend. Which, unfortunately, I can't invite _you_ to, because then I'd have to explain how I know you. And I don't think my mom would be very pleased to know I talk to strangers on the subway."

"I was only a stranger the first time we met," Nick corrected with that devilish grin, his demeanor not changing one iota. Then he gave a shrug. "But I see your point. Are you inviting your boyfriend?"

"I don't have one this week. But I'm inviting the next couple of contenders," she drawled out with a nonchalant shrug of her own. "I'll go out with whoever's the best dancer at the party, assuming he knows how to act at a party with grownups."

"Lucky guy," Nick murmured, giving her a fond smile. "I'm sorry I'll miss the party – especially since I'm a better dancer than most guys your age."

Kala looked at him askance for a moment before deciding to smile. "It's too bad you'll miss out."

Nick grinned at her, the affection of a moment ago melting into something more wicked. He leaned in closer to whisper, "You're the one who's missing out, little girl." The subway car came to a halt then, and he got up to leave, still with that insolent expression on his face.

Kala laughed merrily. "You're wasting your breath, Nick!" she called after him. "You're not offering anything I'm interested in." He only laughed back, and once he was gone Kala let her head drop back against the seat with a sigh of utterly mixed feelings.

Nick was presently the only guy Kala knew whom she couldn't control. Most of them, if she showed the slightest interest, wrapped themselves around her little finger with minimal effort on her part, slavishly eager to devote themselves to her. The less interest she showed, the more determinedly they pursued her. All of that was amusing if eventually exasperating, but Nick didn't seem to play by the same rules. Kala wasn't even sure if he was playing the same game, and she had the nagging feeling that she was no longer ahead in the score.

With an aggravated groan, she steadfastly put him out of her head and focused on remembering which dorm Jamie Sawyer was in.

…

At the offices of WGBS News, the receptionist recognized Jason and waved him through. He found his way to the studio where Cat Grant was currently shooting the afternoon news, and waited until they ended the segment before stepping forward and giving her a little wave.

Cat beamed. "It's my favorite boyfriend!" she called affectionately, making Jason blush in spite of the fact that she'd been calling him that since he was five. She ran up and hugged him, stepping back to beam. "I swear you get taller every time I see you," she said, eyeing him critically. "Are you sure you have any of your mother's genes?"

"Besides the one for sarcasm and the hair color?" Jason offered.

With a laugh, she led him away from the cameras. "Sweetheart, you're not mean enough to really be sarcastic. And that's your father, because your mom is the most viciously snarky woman alive. I say that lovingly, you know."

Jason shrugged. "You've been friends with her longer than I've been alive, Aunt Cat, so I guess you have a right to say it."

"Oh, ouch." Cat mock-winced at that, laughing. "Remind me of my age _and_ hit me with 'Aunt Cat' in the same sentence. Maybe you _are_ your mother's son after all, Jason."

"You're not old! Why does everyone keep saying that? None of you are old!" he protested, and Cat patted his shoulder.

"I know, I'm just messing with you, Jason. It's what honorary family does, remember? Anyway, I'm sure you had a reason to visit – besides spying on our technology for the ancient and backward print media."

The boy could help but blush and give an embarrassed shrug. Having family is various types of communications made for never-ending rivalry. "Mom says the _Planet_ 's website is cooler than yours."

The blonde couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, she also says she kind of likes Perry White's coffee, so we know she's crazy." Seeing he was turning a flattering shade of red, she finally relented and asked, "What really brought you down here, sweetie?"

"I brought you something," Jason replied gratefully, and handed her the invitation. The camera guys were watching them with amusement, so Jason did his best excited-little-boy grin, the expression Lois had once likened to a shark on Prozac.

Recognizing that expression, Cat chuckled fondly and opened the invite, her eyebrows going up. "The Centennial? My, my, _someone_ 's rich stepmom went all out."

That grin of Jason's returned to normal, although it was clear that he was pretty proud. "Nope. Uncle Perry said we should have a grown-up party, and he sort of hijacked the planning from Mom and Dad. Although I wouldn't be surprised if he turned around and asked Lana to plan it."

"Me neither," Cat sighed, smiling herself. "She said she'd plan my wedding too, if I ever settle down…" She paused for a moment, thoughtfully. "You know, the Centennial seems to host a lot of important stuff for your family. You guys are having your sixteenth there, Lois and Clark got married there, Richard and Lana made the gossip column kissing in the lobby…"

Reminded of the detail, Jason squinched his eyes shut and wrinkled his nose. "Difference is, this party will _not_ revolve around kissing."

"Are you trying to tell me that you're not bringing your girlfriend to this little soiree?" Cat poked him teasingly in the side with a mischievous grin.

The comment got its deserved effect when that blush returned. "Aunt Cat!" Jason yelped. "Of course I'm bringing Giselle. It's just, the whole party's not gonna be about kissing."

"Poor thing, all of us shouldn't have so much fun teasing you. You always did turn red as a beet when we did." Cat laughed kindly, hearing the plaintive note in his voice. Jason had always been the shyer twin when they were younger, hiding behind Lois every time they met someone new. He had grown bolder, partly due to Kala's childhood habit of grabbing his hand and dragging him out to meet people, but even now he tended to act put upon when teased too much – unlike his sister, who would sass back until she got upset and pouted. "Of course I'll be at the party," Cat said warmly. "Can I bring a date?"

"Sure," Jason said, straightening up from his slouch. "Just make sure he doesn't look better in a suit than I do."

Laughing again, Cat kissed his cheek. "Not many men who do, kiddo," she said affectionately. "In case nobody else has told you today, you've grown up to be a very handsome young man. And I am famous for my good taste in men." She winked, and Jason just grinned back instead of the long-suffering groan she expected to hear.

"Cat, on air in one minute," someone called, and Cat sighed apologetically.

Jason just smiled. "I'll see you at the party? Right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Cat replied, and then hurried back behind the desk before the commercial break ended. Jason would've liked to hang around and check out the cameras, but he would only be underfoot during an actual news broadcast. He headed out quietly, giving Cat one last wave.

…

The irritatingly-early investor had glanced into Lois' office, immediately seeing the one thing she hadn't gotten a chance to clean up – the litter of notes and coffee stains across her desk. "A clean desk is the sign of a sick mind, or so I've heard," he'd said with a wink, and Lois was surprised to hear herself chuckle. Maybe this guy, one of the young bucks who'd inherited stock from his father, was actually going to be fun. She caught herself smiling, and turned away in time to see Perry looking toward the doors.

Starting to smile, Perry coughed and assumed his usual gruff tone instead. "Dammit, boy, when you resign from a job, you generally quit hangin' around the place." He folded his arms and did his best to look disapproving, but Lois could see the gleam in his eyes.

"Aw, Uncle Perry, how could I resist the ambiance?" Richard called as he walked in, carrying a bag full of take-out containers. Beside him was Lana, who waved at Perry as she strolled toward Lois. Kristin detoured straight to Jimmy's desk, in search of some sugar-free candy, and Lana smiled as the red-headed photographer greeted her daughter with a hug.

"Ambiance, hell, you just miss a _real_ newsroom," Perry growled at his nephew. "That damn fancy magazine of yours lets you leave this early?"

"They're lucky to have me, and they know it," Richard retorted.

Meanwhile, Lana had greeted Lois with her usual hug and peck on the cheek. "Hello, darling," she said. "We brought something sinfully spicy for you, and normal food for everyone else. Can you take a late lunch?"

"I already took lunch," Lois replied, hugging her back with a bit of distraction, but unable to resist glancing at the takeout bag with interest anyway. A delicious smell was wafting through the room, making her mouth water.

"And I'll bet you spent your lunch break working or trying to spruce things up for the investors tomorrow," Lana countered, arching auburn brows. "May I remind you that _I_ hold stock in this newspaper too? As an investor, I demand that the Assistant Editor get her daily quota of scorching-hot snacks. And I further demand that you take twenty minutes and actually have a _break_ , which you tend not to do."

Lois sighed extravagantly. "You hear that, Perry? I can't say no to her – she's a stockholder and the boss' niece-in-law."

"Go on, Lane," Perry said, favoring Lana with a warm smile. "For my sake, don't tick her off. You never know when our favorite millionairess may decide to buy the paper and fire me for not letting you have enough time off."

"I only threatened that _once_ ," Lana corrected, giving Perry a hug.

Richard had already wandered into his old office and set down the food, giving Clark the hybrid handshake-hug that was currently fashionable between men. He came back to open his arms and beam at Lois' back, posing for the moment she turned around. "Hello, gorgeous," he called out, giving a low whistle.

At the sound of that particular voice, Lois smirked before whipping around with dramatic disapproval. "Oh my God, I can't believe they still let _you_ in here. Now Lana, I completely understand. She's a shareholder and makes a good impression. But you? The male model?" Crossing her arms, she looked him critically up and down with one dark brow ticked up as she frowned at him. "I guess they have to. I mean, you're family to several employees and married to an investor. What _is_ the world coming to?"

"It's so cute when you try not to admit how much you love me," Richard replied, grinning at her. "Face it, you pine when I'm not around. Who else is such a perfect foil for your sarcastic profanity, hmm?" When that only got him a raised-eyebrow look, he added, "And my sexy jeans-modeling abs are pretty tempting, too."

"Oh, knock it off, flyboy. I only saw you three days ago," Lois muttered, but she couldn't really hide her grin when she hugged him anyway. Lana watched them as she walked over to Clark, both of them amused by Richard and Lois. Once upon a time, Lana had been very nervous whenever her husband was around his ex-fiancée, but after ten years she'd become much more accepting of their rather quirky friendship.

"You missed me anyway," Richard said confidently, adding an affectionate squeeze to the hug. "I'm irresistible."

Lois snorted with amusement. This was an old and well-loved argument, only few of the word choices changing each time. "Irresistible? Like a bug-zapper, maybe – you _know_ you'll regret it, but you keep flying back anyway. Not that I have a _choice_ in the matter; this bug-zapper follows _me_ around."

Smirking, he made as if to rumple her hair. "Are you trying to tell me that after all this time, you still find me _electrifying_? Or am I just a fatal attraction?"

The look of horror that Lois turned on Clark and Lana made them both break into laughter. That was pure awful, even coming from Richard. As the redhead leaned against Clark, snickering uncontrollably, Lois hissed to Richard with revolted disbelief, "And I used to _sleep_ with you?"

Richard didn't bat an eyelash, already expecting her reaction. "And you used to like it a _helluva_ lot," he shot back, swatting her rump.

That, the swat and not the comment, was enough for her to fight herself free and glare hell-fire flames at him. It was rare that he was this bold at the office; it was even more rare that she wasn't _actually_ physically attempting to harm him for it. "Yeah, that says a lot, doesn't it? Thank you, Richard, for pointing out just how crazy I am. Puns like that, you should come with a warning label and a muzzle."

"Don't give me an opening line like that if you don't like puns," he replied, giving her a mocking leer. It only took Lois a second to catch his meaning, her typical unintentional double entendre, and then she was muttering imprecations and trying to punch him in the ribs while Richard laughingly defended himself.

Clark had slid his arm around Lana, resting his chin on the top of her head as they both watched Lois and Richard making a spectacle of themselves. "It never gets old," Clark sighed, hugging her.

"The Lois and Richard show?" Lana asked, chuckling. "No, it doesn't. What's truly strange is that they both _enjoy_ it." Leaning back against him for emphasis, she added, "By the way, nice work yesterday."

"The headlines _were_ pretty good," he murmured, knowing she was talking about yesterday's rescue of twenty-five children from an overturned bus. Since it had happened in Mexico as part of a Spanish-class trip, he had both caused the Superman story and covered it in the International section of the paper.

Lois had snagged someone's stapler and was threatening Richard with it. That was the usual stage at which Clark and Lana intervened, but Perry stole their moment. "Cool it, kids," he barked from behind Lois, causing them both to turn around and look at him like a couple of startled school-children. Lois hid the stapler behind her back. "This is a _business_ , not a playground. I hope you both realize that investor saw you smack her ass, Richard."

Clenching her jaw, Lois drove her elbow into Richard's ribs without even bothering to look around. "Richard, you _idiot_ ," she growled.

"Ow! Hey, you called me a bug-zapper…" Richard trailed off, seeing the 'how-old- _are_ -you' look on Perry's face.

"Come on, you two," Lana finally said, catching the back of her husband's jacket and tugging him toward Clark's office. "The food's getting cold. Kristin?"

The little girl never failed to come running when called, even if she had to stop on the way to hug Uncle Perry. As soon as she was close enough, she caught Lois' hand and reached up, demanding to be carried. And she was all too aware of the fact that the reporter was more than willing to do so. "C'mere, cuddlebug," Lois said warmly with a soft smile, swinging Kristin up into her arms and kissing her. Beaming at her, she asked as Kristin cuddled into her shoulder, "What've you been doing since you got out of school, kiddo?"

"Pesterin' Mommy an' waitin' to call Kala," Kristin replied honestly. Her blue eyes got very wide then, and she looked over her shoulder at Lana. "Mommy! Kala's outta school! You didn' tell me!"

Lana handed over her phone, shaking her head slightly. "Sweetheart, I was so busy getting together snacks for these ravenous reporters, I forgot. Here, press six and then press talk."

"I know," Kristin replied crossly, opening the phone. Lois just chuckled; the twins at that age had barely known what a cell phone was, much less how to work one, but Kristin spent so much time traveling at Lana's side that she'd actually been perplexed by the first corded phone she ever saw. As they headed in to Clark's office to eat, Kristin's happy chattering provided the background music to their meal.

…

Kala didn't look out of place on a college campus, and she knew it. She walked purposefully to Jamie's dorm, went inside with a group of girls, and headed straight up to Jamie's room. She knocked on the door and felt it open slightly, sticking her head into the room to call out, "Jamie? You in?"

"Hey, Kala," Jamie called. "Come on in. I'm almost done with this chapter anyway." The dark-haired teen trotted into the room, eyeing the posters on the wall critically. Somebody had liked the recent raunchy teen comedy, but it surely wasn't Jamie. Her taste ran more to dramatic films. At least the room wasn't as cramped as some dorms; Jamie only had to share with one other girl, whereas some rooms had up to four students.

Jamie got up from her desk, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes. These were elegant rectangular lenses and very light frames, nothing like the Coke-bottle glasses she'd sported in years past. Time had been kind to her in other ways; the weedy, mousy-haired kid Kala had met so long ago had grown into a tall and willowy young woman. Even her hair had finally decided to lighten to something closer to Maggie's blonde, and she had also developed some of her mother's grace and poise. And funnily enough, Jason _still_ couldn't quite string together a sentence around her, which was why Kala had graciously decided to invite her.

She hugged Kala, stepping back to look at her warily. "All right, you have that _look_ in your eye," Jamie commented. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing." Kala's tone was positively sweet, handing over the invitation. "Well, nothing besides inviting you to the event of the century. I turn sixteen this Saturday, you know." After a pause, she added as an afterthought, "Oh yeah, Jason is too."

Jamie chuckled. "As if you forgot." Glancing at the invitation, she gave Kala a sly look before adding, "You two won't be little kids anymore."

Kala gave her the full treatment: long-suffering sigh, eye roll, and head dropped back as if her neck had suddenly broken. " _Jamie_!" she whined. "Stop acting like a _grownup_. You're supposed to be on _our_ side."

"Maybe you've forgotten, but I _am_ a grownup," Jamie said archly. When Kala just pouted at her, she laughed. "You know I'll be there, Kala. The Centennial – is this black-tie?"

Kala smiled as if she had been assured of her appearance all along. "Wear a knockout dress," the younger girl had smiled promptly. "Something that shows a little leg. Give Jason a heart attack for his birthday."

"It's so sweet that you think of your brother," Jamie drawled sarcastically, whapping the invitation against Kala's shoulder.

Kala snickered. "I do what I can. Anything to show my sisterly love."

"You unmerciful little brat. I'll think about it, okay?"

"Thanks," Kala chirped happily, hugging her. "Now, you know I'd love to stay and drive the college boys crazy, but I have to get a couple of other invites done. Including some _real_ grownups."

Jamie just shook her head. "Go on, then. I'll see you at the party."

Any other comments Kala might've made were interrupted by her cell phone ringing. "Lana? I wonder what's up?" Kala said under her breath, recognizing the ring tone instantly. "I've got to take this. See you, Jamie!" The blonde waved her understanding, and Kala flipped open her phone as she left the room. "KLK Enterprises, how may I help you?" she answered in her most adult voice.

"Kala?"

"Little Red!" The delighted smile that lit up Kala's face at the sound of Kristin's voice would've surprised many of the other kids in school, most of whom had never seen her so brilliantly happy. "How's the bestest little sister ever?"

"Great!" Kristin replied just as cheerfully. As she proceeded to tell Kala all about her day – including the fact that she was at the _Planet_ with Richard and Lana – the dark-haired teenager headed back to the subway station.

…

Jason knocked on the Thomas' door, already smiling. He'd known since he was little that his music teacher was awesome, but as he grew older, he learned how to truly appreciate her many gifts. Not only was she a talented musician and singer, but she had the patience and the passion for music to pass that learning along. Over the years, she'd become a good friend to his mother as well – not the sort of friend she went out drinking with, like her usual gang of troublemakers, but someone she could talk to about kids or husbands over a perfectly-brewed cup of coffee.

Her daughter, Ashlyn, answered the door. She'd grown into a pretty young blonde whose love of singing rivaled her mother's, and Jason had often felt privileged to accompany her on the piano. "Hi, Jason," she said, smiling brightly. "Come on in."

"Thanks," he replied. Jason and Ashlyn had gone out briefly at fourteen, but had discovered that they didn't actually like each other like that; they just enjoyed going to movies and plays together. Trying to call those evenings 'dates' had just made things awkward and silly, so they invited Kala and Sebast along and called it friends' night, or an un-date. Smiling at his good fortune in having friends like Ashlyn, who didn't think it was embarrassing to know all the words to all the Disney songs at the age of sixteen, Jason asked, "Are your mom and dad home?"

"Mom is, Dad's at work," she replied. "Why?"

"I have something for all three of you," Jason said, and unable to resist the question in her eyes, he added, "Invitations to my birthday party this weekend."

"Awesome!" Ashlyn had a smile that lit up not just the room, but the rest of the recipient's day. "C'mon, Mom's in the music room." She caught his hand and practically pulled him along.

Mrs. Thomas looked up in amusement at her daughter's sparkling eyes and Jason's friendly grin. "Hello, Jason," she said, rising from the piano to give him a hug.

"Hi, Mrs. Thomas," he replied. "I just dropped by to invite you and Mr. Thomas and Ashlyn to my birthday party." With that, he brought their invitations out of his backpack and handed them over.

"Can we go, Mom?" Ashlyn asked before even opening hers.

Mrs. Thomas looked the invitation over seriously, checking the time and location, before smiling broadly. "Yes, I think we can all make it."

"Great!" Jason said, giving her another spontaneous hug that made her laugh at his open affection. "It wouldn't be a real birthday party without you, you know. You were always there for me and Kala when we were little."

"You are such a sweet boy," she told him. "Your parents must be so proud."

Jason ducked the praise with a little laugh. "Nah, they just expect me to have some manners and class," he responded. "I wish I could stay, but…"

"More people to invite, hmm?" When he nodded, Mrs. Thomas patted his shoulder. "Go ahead, Jason. Ashlyn really ought to be doing her homework anyway."

The girl sighed good-naturedly and showed Jason out of the house with a roll of her eyes that was more token teenage gesture than genuine sarcasm. "See you at the party!" she called as the door closed.

…

Perry had warned that Richard and Lana could hang out _only_ if they stayed out of trouble. That was easy for Lana, currently in Lois' office helping her get her desk clean and organized – the box of miscellaneous junk hidden in the supply closet offended her Midwestern sensibilities, and she'd cajoled Lois into actually _cleaning_. Kristin sat on the couch in Lois' office, oblivious to both of them as she used Lois' pens and copier paper to draw a picture; her phone call to Kala had brightened her already happy afternoon. Richard leaned back in the chair, his feet up on his old desk, watching the three with an affectionate smile.

Absently, Richard picked up the baseball on Clark's desk. Jason had caught it at a Metropolis Monarchs game, and Clark kept the souvenir on a little stand. Richard tossed it into the air and caught it, still watching Lois' office. Lana opened a folder, looked shocked at the contents, and whapped Lois on the shoulder with it. Kristin glanced up, saw them looking incredulously at each other, and then ignored them in favor of her picture again.

Richard chuckled. "Those two never cease to amaze me," he opined, tossing the ball again and catching it. "They have next to nothing in common, except their taste in men, and you'd think _that_ would have them at each other's throats. But they're close. Sometimes I think Lana tells Lois stuff she doesn't tell me."

"If you think that's odd, think about you and I being friends," Clark replied, watching his souvenir being casually tossed around.

Richard just grinned. "Yeah, but I've always been a fan of yours." He didn't need to mention the S-shield decal on the wing of his seaplane; it had been there years before he actually met Clark.

Clark looked thoughtful before he spoke. "Even when I stole your fiancée and your kids?" The soft tone in his voice still held a bit of guilt after all these years.

Richard caught the baseball and turned to look at him with a long-suffering roll of his eyes. "This again? She was never mine, Clark. And the kids, well, I knew they weren't biologically mine from the start. You didn't _steal_ them, either, we're sharing. I happen to think Jason and Kala benefit from having both of us as role models."

"There's a part of Lois' heart that will always be yours, Richard," Clark reminded him. "She loves you. If you ever doubt it, realize that you smacked her on the bottom a little while ago and none of your bones are broken. _That's_ love."

Tossing the ball again, Richard chuckled as he looked across Perry's office at the two women again. "Yeah, and I think everybody knows I'll always love her, too. But it's not like it is with you – I swear, every time you and Lois look at each other, I hear faint instrumental music in the background."

That got a laugh from Clark. "Unfortunately, sometimes it's the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Trust me, Richard, life isn't perfect even for me."

Richard paused to consider this, biting his lip thoughtfully. While trying to decide if this was the place or time to be giving Superman relationship advice, he tossed the ball into the air once more. When he reached to catch it, however, it wasn't there. He fumbled for it, hoping he wasn't about to drop Clark's souvenir…

…and then realized Clark was holding the ball. And smiling. "Okay, that is not fair," Richard said.

…

 _Behave as if you have every right to be there, and no one will think to challenge you. Skulk and you won't make it ten feet past the front door._ That sage wisdom, learned from Perry White and practiced by intrepid reporter Lois Lane, was frequently put to use by both Lane-Kent kids, but especially Kala. She headed into the _Daily Star_ building with her head up, backpack slung casually over one shoulder, her heeled boots rapping the tile floor authoritatively. She seemed so at home that a couple of cub reporters actually got out of her way and let her have the elevator car they were waiting for. Kala managed not to smirk until the doors closed.

She went straight up to the top floor, and was halfway across the bullpen before someone noticed her. "Hey," a scowling young man called. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to see Tobie," Kala replied, looking up at him coyly through her eyelashes. He would've been handsome, if he would've lost the sour look, so she gave him the slow grin that made high school boys forget where they were.

She'd expected him to at least smile, but he just looked annoyed. Shaking his head, he got up to lead her to Tobie's office, and Kala watched him warily. At least the other men in the office were behaving in more familiar ways; Kala got the obvious look over, the sly wait-until-you-walk-past glance, and a couple of friendly grins. She had grown accustomed to such treatment by men who didn't realize how young she actually was, and it amused her. It gave her parents – and her brother – fits, but Kala considered herself above all of it. That aloof attitude just seemed to encourage most of them, though…

Tobie's office was only partially glassed-in, and the editor was reading something at her desk, so she didn't see them approach. The young man opened the door and said in an aggravated tone, "Raines, someone to see you." He stepped back, not even bothering to hold the door for Kala, and muttered, "Young enough to be her daughter, too…"

"Excuse me?" Kala glared at him sharply, catching the door. "Just _what_ are you implying?" Too late, she realized that her attempt to charm him might've been taken as something else entirely. She'd been raised to be very open-minded, but the implication freaked her out a bit. Tobie was cool, but she was, well, _Mom's_ age.

Tobie had stood up the moment the door opened, and Kala's tone filled her in on the muttered comment she'd missed. Glowering at her employee, she snapped, "Listen, McAvery, she's _fifteen_. And essentially my niece." Holding up her left hand, with its slender gold ring, she added, "Not to mention, I am very happily married. Keep your perverse imaginings to yourself."

Never one to forgo putting her two cents into the conversation, Kala glared at him too, aware that they had the attention of the entire newsroom. "Besides which, my mother _and_ my father are department heads at the _Daily Planet_. I don't fraternize with the enemy." On that note, she spun on her heel and stalked into Tobie's office, where she promptly hopped up onto the desk and swung her feet like a second-grader.

With a last glower at her staff, Tobie sat back down. "Get off the desk, brat," she said. "And you could've just told him you were straight."

"But Aunt Tobie, that never stopped you before," Kala responded immediately, unable to contain her gleeful grin as she slid off the desk and into the chair opposite Tobie. Mom _had_ asked Jason to give Tobie hell, not knowing that Kala would be the one delivering her invitation, and this was the best way to unnerve and annoy her at the moment. "With your reputation, straightness is just a challenge to be overcome."

Tobie gave a heavy sigh. "You eavesdropped _way_ too much as a child, Kala. And if I was _that_ good at converting straight girls, I would've bagged your mom when we were in college."

"You respect Mom too much to add her to your _long_ list of conquests," Kala dismissed the comment blithely, as if she hadn't just said aloud what had remained unspoken between the two friends for twenty years. "Anyway, since I went to your wedding, I know perfectly well you're off the market."

"I've been off the market ever since I met Maggie," Tobie smiled at the memory. "She made quite the impression…"

"I've heard," Kala said dryly. "You were so enraptured watching her direct traffic that you rear-ended some guy's car, and then tried to pick her up when she wrote you a ticket for it."

"Never underestimate the power of a woman in uniform," Tobie said with a smirk.

"Never underestimate the audacity of a reporter," Kala shot back.

That earned a grudging grin from EIC Raines. "Nice vocabulary. People might actually think your parents are writers or something."

"Hey, they still have a front-page byline now and then," Kala replied. "Can the Editor in Chief of _this_ newspaper say as much? Inquiring minds want to know."

"Read the _Star_ and find out," Tobie retorted. "Might do you some good to read some news that _doesn't_ exist to impress its investors."

Kala made a reasonable impression of a mewling cat. " _That_ was catty. Sounds like you think you have something to prove."

"To you? Not a thing," Tobie said, sitting back in her chair. "The only nice thing about being north of thirty-five is not having to defend myself against arrogant little squirts like you. I've _survived_ being just as much of a snarky little shit as you are right now, and that's accomplishment enough."

"You know, you really have a poetic way of talking about your wild youth," Kala commented, leaning back in her own chair. "Anyway, if you can stop being defensive for five seconds, I actually have a reason to be here."

"Besides trying to take over your mom's job of heckling me?" Tobie replied, smiling.

"Yeah, there's a party this weekend you won't want to miss," Kala said, rummaging in her backpack for the invitation. "Especially since Jason's downtown at SCU headquarters right now, inviting your wife, and I just invited Jamie."

Tobie opened the invitation and glanced at it. "Yeah, I think I can make this one," she said. Turning to look at Kala, her habitual sarcastic expression softened. "It's hard to believe you're gonna be sixteen. I still remember the goofy little kid with the pigtails and the big cheesy grin."

The Lane eyebrow ticked up at that. "Don't go all sentimental on me, Aunt Tobie," Kala warned half-heartedly. "It just doesn't suit your image." She couldn't quite help smiling, though.

"Nice to see the grin's improved a bit," Tobie commented, giving her a critical look. "Almost lady-like. Good thing your grandparents rubbed off on you. When you were little, half the time you looked like some kind of deranged monkey. Or wanting to _be_ a deranged monkey, for that matter."

"And when I have my own band, I think I'll call it KLK and the Deranged Monkeys. What do you think? Think it'll stand out?" Kala's eyes twinkled merrily.

Tobie laughed. "Get out of my office, you brat. I'll see you at the party." Kala came around the desk to hug her, and the editor watched her leave with a slight smile. She had never wanted children of her own, but to her surprise, she'd gotten along well with the twins from the first meeting. Maybe because she never treated them like children – never knowing _how_ you were supposed to treat children in the first place.

It was easy to fall into the habit of treating the twins as adults. They'd always been precocious, learning to speak and read and write earlier than most children. They had also both shown an early understanding of adult concepts like sarcasm, and developed keen wits at an age when most kids' idea of humor was a guy slipping on a banana peel.

On the other hand, Jason and Kala had shown some very childish naïveté at times. Completely unaware that Tobie didn't particularly like kids, they had both adored her and climbed into her lap at every opportunity, greeting her with sticky hugs and beaming smiles that she just couldn't ignore. That experience had been very useful when Maggie's ex-husband decided to let her daughter start visiting more often; Maggie's on-call schedule meant that Tobie frequently found herself taking care of Jamie. It could've been very awkward, but somehow they managed to wind up as friends. Other than a standoffish period in Jamie's mid-teens, family life was fairly enjoyable.

"Next thing you know I'll start wanting a house and a picket fence and a dog," Tobie sighed to herself. "Dammit, Raines, you're getting old and senile. Leave the happy housewife crap to Lucy, she makes it look good." On that amusing thought, she turned her mind back to work.

…

Jason's final stop was a place most teenagers wouldn't be comfortable: the headquarters of Metropolis' Special Crime Unit. Few sixteen-year-old boys were at ease around the police, even if they had nothing to feel guilty about. Jason, however, had a spotless conscience and the knowledge that Aunt Maggie adored him, so he headed in to see the desk sergeant with a smile. "I'm here to see Inspector Sawyer," he said confidently.

This particular officer wasn't one Jason knew, and the older man looked at him for a moment. "On what business?"

"Inviting her to my birthday party," Jason said, hoping that that didn't sound as lame as he thought it did. "I'm her nephew, Jason Kent."

A voice behind him said gruffly, "Arrest him. He's Lois Lane's son; he's bound to have done _something_."

"Hi, Lieutenant Turpin," Jason said with a grin, holding out his hand. "My sister's the evil twin, not me, remember?"

"Yeah, and the day we all start believing that, you'll start your career in crime," Turpin replied, shaking it before catching his shoulder. "C'mon, kid, I'll walk you to Mags' office. Now what's this about a party? You kids going to behave?"

"Of course we'll behave … badly, as always," Jason quipped, getting a chuckle from Turpin. "Seriously, though. Uncle Perry's throwing us a _real_ party. Kala's got a fancy dress nobody's seen, that's probably black anyway, and I've got a new suit."

"Very nice," Turpin said with actual interest. "And you're inviting your mom's crowd?"

"Well, they are my aunts," Jason said with a shrug. "If Aunt Maggie will come to the party, she can keep them in line."

"I'm sure she will, if for no other reason than to make sure that gang of high-powered reporters doesn't decide to take over the world," Turpin grinned fondly. They had arrived at a door with _Inspector Margaret Sawyer_ neatly lettered on the frosted glass window. The older man rapped once on the glass before opening the door. "Mags, got a miscreant here to see you," he said, giving Jason a quick wink.

The boy just shook his head slightly as he walked in. Maggie was looking up warmly from behind her desk, her ice-blue eyes thawed by affection when she saw Jason. Ten years had not changed her much in Jason's eyes; her light blonde hair didn't show gray, and she still had the same aura of competence and confidence that Jason had admired when he was little.

"Hey there, you," Maggie said, getting up to hug Jason. It still felt weird to him to realize he was taller than her; after his last growth spurt, Jason was nearly six feet tall.

"Hi, Aunt Maggie," He returned the hug before sitting down across from her.

"I'd ask what brings you to the precinct, but I have a pretty good idea," Maggie said with a small smile, taking her own seat again.

"Well, yeah, deductive reasoning and all that." Jason reached into his backpack for her invitation. "You know our birthday's coming up, and you probably even know that Uncle Perry rented out the Centennial ballroom."

"Actually, no," Maggie corrected gently as she took the invitation. "The heating vents in here run directly over the duty desk. I heard you tell Sergeant Wilco why you were here."

Jason had to laugh. "You know what Mom would say; typical devious cop."

"Half my friends are reporters, I have to be devious just to stay ahead," Maggie replied honestly. She opened the invitation and scanned it, unable to hold back the smile. "Of course I'll be there, Jason. Do I get to bring a date?"

Jason smiled and nodded. "You can actually bring another guest. Kal's already at the _Star_ inviting Tobie. For some reason, she likes invading enemy territory."

"I'd pity Tobie, but she enjoys sparring with the competition," Maggie sighed. "There are days when I envy her for working in a field where she can have a drink with her opposition."

A worried frown crossed Jason's face for a moment. "Reporters get shot at too. Not as often as you guys, but they're usually not expecting it, so I guess that's worse in some ways."

One pale blonde eyebrow arched up, and Maggie smiled at him. "From the mouths of babes, hmm? You've got a point there. Anybody ever tell you you're as quick as your mom and as deep as your dad?"

"Not really," Jason murmured, trying to hide an embarrassed little grin. "I don't think a lot of people think Dad is deep."

Maggie gave him a knowing look. "Yeah, but _you_ know better. And so does anyone close to him. He's a very smart man, your father. Anybody that klutzy has some very deep thoughts going on – the kind that keep him from paying attention to little things like whether there's any furniture in his way."

 _Or he's listening to half the world, trying to stay ahead of the latest disaster_ , Jason thought, but it amounted to the same thing. "That's probably true."

"Of course it is. Cops can't lie," Maggie told him with a wink. Her phone rang at that moment, and she gave him an apologetic smile. "Duty calls."

"Be safe, Aunt Maggie," Jason said the same way he always did these days, quickly coming around her side of the desk to hug her. "I'll see you at the party."

"Take care, kid," she said, and answered the phone. Jason showed himself out, waving at Lieutenant Turpin as he walked by. The wall clock proclaimed the time as being four-thirty; plenty of time for one last invitation.

Jason took the bus to his destination, getting off a few blocks away to buy some carnations from a sidewalk flower-vendor. He always brought cheerful flowers, in this case red and white striped ones, and he had the seller wrap them with a bright ribbon. Carrying the carnations, Jason walked the last two blocks in thoughtful silence.

Once inside the gates, it seemed he could feel the November chill that much more. Stately trees loomed over him, their leaves skirling along the path, and the weathered granite stones added to the feel of age and permanence. Some might have found fear within the cemetery's stone walls, but Jason found only serenity.

And, at Nana's grave, he found his sister. An invitation and a purple rose lay atop Ella's headstone, and Kala sat beside it, knees drawn up to her chin and the cold November wind playing with her hair. Jason walked around the graves with exaggerated care; he had once, unthinkingly, trod on the very foot of Nana's resting place, and Kala had gone berserk, lecturing him about respect for the dead and burial desecration. The thought of _stepping_ on his beloved grandmother horrified him enough that Jason never made that mistake again.

Laying his carnations and invitation beside Kala's, where they looked like exactly the kind of well-meant but mismatched gift a couple of kids would give their grandmother, Jason sat down next to his sister. He offered her his hand, and she took it, the two of them contemplating the words etched in fine black granite. _Elinore Gwendolyn Lane_ , _Beloved Wife_ , _Dearest Mother_ , _Best Nana Ever_. The last three words hadn't seemed to fit the somber mood of the cemetery, but Jason and Kala had argued fiercely for them. Nora and Joanna had supported them, Michelle had gone along with them, and Sam as the oldest grandchild had finally managed to convince the adults. "She _is_ the best nana ever," he'd said, tears in his eyes. "Not _was_. _**Is**_. And always will be. Why're we gonna put something like 'loved grandmother' when it's not what we _feel_ and what we _mean_?"

The first few times Jason had come here, he'd found himself crying almost silently. But gradually, the sorrow had begun to seep away, replaced by the comfort he'd always felt in Nana's presence. Now, six months after her passing, neither he nor Kala wept at the grave. It was a place of solace, not of grief, and though they still mourned her, the pain was not as keen as it had once been.

Softly, Kala began to sing, lyrics from _Aida_ , a halting pause between each line. "I am here to tell you we can never meet again… Simple really, isn't it, a word or two and then… A lifetime of not knowing where or how or why or when… You think of me or speak of me and wonder what befell… The someone you once loved … so long ago … so well…"

Jason squeezed her hand as she trailed off, and Kala leaned against his shoulder. For that moment, they were so perfectly in synch with each other that words were unnecessary. All of their arguments, the stress of their daily lives straddling two worlds, were gone, blown away by the same wind that now flipped a perfect red maple leaf onto Jason's jacket.

Kala looked over at the leaf, clinging just over Jason's heart, and smiled. "We miss you, too, Nana."

…

A familiar sound reached Clark's super-sensitive hearing: Jason and Kala, bickering as usual. "We're _early_ ," his son groused. "So you didn't have to be such a jerk to Giselle after all."

"Yes, I did," Kala shot back. "Otherwise she would've sucked up all your free time _and_ what pitiful few brain cells are still in there. I swear, Jason, your IQ drops like the temperature in the Arctic whenever she's around."

The pair was in the elevators, and Clark quickly finished up the paperwork he was in the midst of, resolutely ignoring the argument forty floors below. The twins had to work things out on their own; they both resented parental interference in their squabbles. After the first few times of being shocked and horrified by them screaming insults at each other, Clark had adopted a 'no intervention until blood is spilled' policy. Fortunately, Lois agreed with him on the matter, and was generally amused by the petty quarreling her children indulged it. It must've reminded her of most of her friendships; the more Jason and Kala sniped and complained, the more intensely they actually cared about each other. Weird, to Clark's way of thinking, but patently true. Besides, Lois had commented offhand once, they'd been doing this since the womb. At least they weren't physically kicking each other all day anymore. She had paused for a moment to consider, then added, "Well, most of the time, anyway."

A few minutes later, Jason and Kala swung through the bullpen doors. Every reporter knew them on sight and greeted them, but they barely made it ten steps into the room before their biggest admirer saw them. " _Kala_! _Jason_!" Kristin called, dashing out of Lois' office toward them. She pounced on them for hugs, asking excitedly, "What didja learn in big-kid school today?"

"That redheaded children are, genetically, smarter and more beautiful than anyone else," Kala said, tapping Kristin's nose fondly.

The little girl giggled, then held up her hands. "Swing me?" she pleaded. Jason and Kala each grabbed a hand. Walking on either side of her, they gently swung her between them with each step all the way to Lois' office. Kala hugged her mother as if they hadn't quarreled that morning, hugged Lana, and admired Kristin's picture before heading back out. They split up to hand out invitations around the office, Jason going over to International, Kala to City. The family members had already been invited, but Ron confirmed that he, Lucy, and all four Troupe kids would make it. Kala invited Perry and Jimmy and Laurel, surprising her mother's secretary.

When Richard saw a few moments later that both kids were hovering at Jimmy's desk, keeping him from accomplishing anything, he picked up the phone on Clark's desk and dialed Jimmy's extension from memory. "Hey, Jimmy," he said. "Tell the brats we have food, that'll get them out of your hair." At that distance, he saw Kala's shoulders tense; she was getting much better about not giving away what she could hear. Even five years ago, she would have dashed off toward the office before Jimmy could even relay the message.

Kala was first through the door with no obvious use of superpowers. She seemed to have inherited Lois' bottomless appetite and propensity for scavenging everyone else's meals. "Hi Dad," she said to Richard, kissing his cheek as he handed her the takeout box. Perching on the edge of Clark's desk to eat, she added, "We made it back in time, Daddy."

"I noticed," Clark said, smiling. Some people thought it was odd that his sixteen-year-old daughter still called him Daddy, but it just seemed endearing to him.

"I noticed that you're wearing my shirt," Richard said, tugging at the hem of it.

Kala yelped and pulled away, looking wounded. "You said I could," she replied, tugging the shoulder up with her sweetest smile. "It's comfortable. And it smells like you."

Richard hugged her for that. "Love you, too, Kiddle," he said with smile when he pulled back.

That was enough that make Kala hide her face. " _Dad_ ," she groaned at the old nickname, but smiled up at him after a moment.

Jason arrived just in time to prevent Kala from making her way back to the last egg roll, with Lois, Lana, and Kristin just behind him. Lana glanced at the clock on Clark's desk and sighed. "Time flies when you're having fun."

The younger woman just frowned at her before dropping herself into a chair. "See, that's what's wrong with you, Lana. Cleaning out my in-tray is _not_ fun. In no way and on any planet is that ever considered anything approaching _fun_ ," Lois muttered.

"Lois, you had nicotine patches in there, and quit smoking ten years ago," Lana retorted, crossing her arms to look at her scoldingly. Lois only gave a snort before taking a drink of the Mountain Dew she hadn't finished during her earlier snack. "Mostly quit, anyway. Clark, I don't know if you and Lois want to stay late today, but I think Richard and I will take the children home. Besides, I need to make sure Jason's suit fits correctly, and we need to do Kala's final fitting."

The girl's eyes sparkled at the mention of her new dress, a secret only she and Lana shared. It was a look that none of the family present missed. "I don't have much homework," she said quickly, looking pleadingly at her mother and father.

Lois and Clark shared a look full of adoration and understanding before Lois gave the twins an indulgent smile. "Sounds good to me," she volunteered. "Just get home before it gets too late. Both of you have school tomorrow, okay?"

"I'll second that," Clark said, trying not to laugh at the eager excitement on Kala's face as she almost tackled the both of them in gratitude. Even Jason had snickered. "We'll see you two later."

Hugs and kisses were exchanged, again – the three kids were all openly affectionate and brought that out in the adults – and peace was restored to the newsroom at last. Lois sighed, watching the elevator doors close, and Clark took her hand gently. "I don't know what we would've done without Richard and Lana," he murmured.

"Me neither," Lois replied. Realizing her tone was far too affectionate, she added with a teasing smile, "Just think how much they've saved us in babysitting fees."

"You are _impossible_ ," Clark told her, pulling her down for a kiss. "Wrap up the paperwork and we'll enjoy our free afternoon."

"What, no meeting?" Lois commented drolly, dark eyebrows rising. "No world collapsing? No urgent consultation? None of that? Well, I may drop dead of shock."

"Well, maybe _one_ meeting," Clark said, and his voice had lowered slightly, looking at her over the tops of his glasses so his royal blue gaze was unhindered. "A private conference between the heads of departments."

At that, Lois smiled, and it was almost her usual saucy grin, close enough for Clark to tell himself that the hint of hesitation was just stress. "Let's play it by ear, hero," she murmured, and kissed him again before leaving.

* * *


End file.
